


A Lady and a Rogue

by laurpas



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Murder Mystery, Regency, canon is treated very poorly, for which i absolutely do not apologize
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurpas/pseuds/laurpas
Summary: Once, years ago, the Hawkes were a well-known and respected family belonging to the upper crust of England's aristocracy. That all changed, however, when Malcolm Hawke was accused of murder and killed in a duel.Convinced that her father was framed, Marian Hawke sets out to find the real killer and restore her family's honor, only to find herself drawn to Fenris Scavo, a man with a mysterious past...---aka the Regency AU where the plot is made up and canon doesn't matter





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love historical romance novels. I probably would not have started writing without them. This type of regency that I'm writing is very much like a lot of modern historical romance novels, a la Amanda Quick or Julia Quinn, and not like the Jane Austen type of regency. It also treats canon like an old overcoat.
> 
> Still I hope you enjoy!

Though the hallways were long and poorly lit Marian Hawke still managed to find the door she was looking for. It was a heavy oak thing, the last one on the left with a door handle that was slightly more tarnished than all of the others. She’d gifted her lady’s maid generously after she had come through with the information and once she heard the _snick_ of the door unlocking she promised herself that she would give Orana another few afternoons off. The information about the location of Lord Castewell’s office had been important but the lessons in lockpicking had been even more helpful.

  This, of course, brought up the curious question as to where a lady’s maid learned to pick locks but as it was benefiting Marian immensely she didn’t care to question it.

  The door swung open silently on well oiled hinges and Marian stepped into the room, feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest. She’d never done something as daring as this but, while a part of her was afraid, another, stronger part of her was bolstered by her mission.

  She had come tonight to gather very important information and she was not going to let her fear stop her. Carefully she closed the door behind her, exhaling when it clicked quietly shut again.

  Slowly she made her way to the desk which stood in the center of the room, a big, ugly hulking thing. Though her footsteps upon the carpet were nearly silently she cringed every time she scuffled slightly or breathed too heavily. She already had a story prepared if she were discovered here but she wanted to avoid that at all possible costs.

  Stepping before the desk she took in the many drawers, considering them, before stooping down before one of them and removing another bobby pin. Though Oranna had told her that using a lockpick set would be far easier Marian had liked the rather romantic idea of being able to hide her tools in plain sight.  

  It took her a few moments longer than she might have wanted to but finally the lowest desk drawer unlocked with a soft click and she pulled it open to find piles and piles of poorly organized letters stuffed carelessly inside the drawer.

  “Of course Lord Castewell would be a terrible organizer,” she muttered to herself as she began to pull out bundles of letters and plopped them on the desk. “I suppose most murderers would be.” As she was shifting through them, however, one caught her eye.

   _My Dearest Lord Castewell…_ it started and, in the corner, a date sometime shortly before Anna Sidwell had been murdered.

  Marian sucked in a deep breath feeling, instinctively, that she had finally stumbled upon a clue that might allow her to finally clear her father’s name.

  And then the doorknob to the room slowly began to turn.

***

  The room was dark and, what was more, blessedly quiet. Especially compared to the cacophony of lights and noise taking place in the ballroom just outside the thick wooden door of the office he had stumbled into.

  The only problem, Fenris Scavo thought, was that he was not alone.

  He had stumbled into the room seeking some privacy from the judgemental stares of the other party-goers and although he had little desire to leave he was well aware he might have stumbled across some other people seeking... Privacy.

  Privacy, for some tea or a nice chat, he thought humorlessly to himself.

  Though he only saw two slippered feet poking out from beneath the curtains that hung over the large window across the room he was well aware that there might be yet another person hiding in the room. Slowly he began to approach the feet, doing his best to speak quietly and calmly.

  “I apologize for interrupting,” he said, his low voice echoing eerily through the otherwise quiet room. He took another step forward and continued, “I only wanted a quick moment to myself, but I will be leaving shortly...”

  The feet said nothing, likely because they were feet. Still, he felt unnerved by the complete and utter silence that came from their owner.

  “Once again,” he said, “I am sorry.”

  He watched as the feet shuffled slightly, the curtain gently moving as the person behind it no doubt shifted. Though he found himself unwillingly curious as to who the feet belonged to he knew that his presence was becoming more unwelcome by the minute.

  With a quiet sigh he turned away and back towards the door. He absolutely did not want to return to the ballroom but found himself with little choice. His friend, Mr. Stillings, would likely be wondering where he had gone off to anyway.

  It was then that he noticed that several of the drawers in the desk had been pulled open and clearly rifled with, some of their contents scattered wildly on the top of the desk.  

  Suddenly Mr. Scavo realized that he had not stumbled across some illicit meeting of lovers but a robbery.

  He turned just as the owner of the feet stepped out from behind the curtains, brandishing a letter opener high in the air.

  “You-” She started, but though he had expected her to attack him the woman just stood there, as if frozen. And then he realized that he recognized her.

   “Ms. Hawke?” He asked, disbelief coloring his voice. “What are you doing in here?” He had never formally met the woman, only heard stories about her… Questionable behavior. And although a part of him was shocked another part of him felt intrigued.

  No, not- Absolutely not that. He was shocked and outraged and that was the entirety of what he was feeling at the moment.

  “I think I could ask you that very same question, sir,” she said, taking a step towards him and pointing the letter opener accusingly, much as one would a foil. “Why in the world are you in Lord Castewell’s office when you should be at the ball, hm?” Her heart was beating wildly inside her chest but Marian Hawke mentally patted herself on the back for appearing to be so brave and in control of herself.

  Fenris was about to correct her, this was Lady Castewell’s office actually, were he not so shocked that she would try to turn the questioning around on him.

  “ _I_ came in here to get away from the ball occurring outside, but it appears that your intentions are far less pure.”

  “I resent that remark,” Marian responded and crossed her arms over her chest. A curious crunching noise came from the bodice of her dress and Fenris watched as, even in the near darkness of the room, he was able to see a blush spread across her cheeks.

  “I hesitate to point this out but…” He started, motioning to her dress and pulling on all of his manners not to stare, “But you appear to have some documents in- In places you should never have documents.”

  “You mean my bodice?” Marian drawled, and was rewarded when Fenris seemed to become just as flustered as she was currently feeling.

  “I mean- If- You- That is-” He started, suddenly feeling himself rather flummoxed. He’d come here, seeking some relief from the over-heated and over-crowded ballroom and now he was sorely regretting it.

  He watched as Marian marched past him then to the desk, apparently deciding he wasn’t worth any more argument. He expected her to begin trying to put things away but instead she continued to rifle through some of the papers she had found, absolutely shameless.

  “Excuse me,” he said and when she did not respond he said again, “ _Excuse me_ ,”

  Marian poked her head up, staring at him before she continued on with what she was doing.

  “If you are not going to help me,” she said, picking up a paper and looking at it briefly before sticking it down the front of her dress, “I must insist that you at least stand to the side and not get in my way.”

  Fenris stared for a moment in disbelief and then marched across the room, settling both hands on the desk. “Stand aside? So that you can rob these good people?”

  He watched as Marian’s face narrowed in anger, watched as her mouth worked before she was able to speak.

  “The Castewells are anything but good people,” she hissed, “And I am not robbing them. I am here to collect information.”

  Something niggled in the back of his brain, some bit of gossip from a few years back but he found himself unable to recall it.

  “Information? What could you possibly need information for?”

  “In order to prove that Lord Castewell murdered Anna Sidwell before he can do it to his current wife.”

  Fenris just stared at her in the aftermath of her declaration, trying to comprehend what she was saying. He now remembered the event that she spoke of, though only vaguely. Anna Sidwell had been found murdered in her family’s home, but it had been clear from the beginning that Castewell had not murdered her. In fact…

  “But that is- Impossible- What possible cause-”

  “I _know_ that he did it,” Marian said and when she looked up at him again Fenris was struck by the determination and belief in her brown eyes. “I just need evidence to prove it and I intend to find it here.”

  But before Marian could explain any further she was cut off by the sudden sound of footsteps from outside. She froze, face going pale, as the sound of several people grew closer and closer to the door.

  “Oh-” She said, and then, despite the fact that she was a lady, said several very un-ladylike things as she scrambled to stuff papers and letters back into their drawers.

  “Help me!” She hissed, as the door-handle began to jiggle. She managed to slam the drawers shut again just before Fenris grasped her arm and yanked her away from the desk.

  “I do not know where you got these wild notions about murder but I assure you-” Fenris had intended to give her a good lecture when the door finally opened, interrupting him.

  “Excuse me?” A figure stepped into the bright light now coming through the door and Fenris realized that it was none other than Lady Castewell.

  “What in the world are you two doing?” She asked, bright blue eyes wide as she took in the scene. Marian had a hand clasped over her bodice, trying to hide the corners of the letters that poked out while Fenris held her other hand. Both were red-faced and Marian’s hair and dress were mussed from hiding behind the curtains.

  “I-” Fenris started, wanting to explain himself before he was interrupted.

  “Mr. Scavo,” Lady Castewell said, stepping forward and putting her hands on her hips, “I cannot believe you would try to step in and take advantage of a young lady like Ms. Hawke-”

  This was not happening to him, Fenris thought. He was not being accused of dishonoring a woman that he had just tried to stop from rifling through the lady of the house’s desk-

  “I assure you, Lady Castewell,” he started, “No such thing has happened between us.”

  “And yet,” she replied, staring at where their hands met, “I come in to see you two, alone in a darkened room, completely unchaperoned…”

  From beyond the open door came yet more footsteps and Fenris felt whatever chance he had of explaining himself out of this mess quickly disappearing. Desperate he shot Marian a look but she was staring resolutely ahead, her hand still pressed tightly over her the collar of her dress. Her other hand was squeezing his tightly and he realized, suddenly, that she must be terrified.

  If Lady Castewell told anyone about this, Fenris realized, he would be labeled a rake. But Ms. Hawke? Ms. Hawke would be labeled _unmarriageable_.

  Mentally Fenris took a deep breath, preparing to do something that he had hoped for, but under very different circumstances. Still, it was the right thing to do. Ms. Hawke might have been foolish but it was clear that she had good intentions and he could not let her be punished so severely for them.

  “Actually, Lady Castewell,” he started, closing his eyes and raising their joined hands, “I have asked Ms. Hawke to come away with me so that I might…”

  There was a beat of silence as he struggled to bring himself to say the words. He could almost feel the stare coming from Lady Castewell, could feel the way that Marian was now digging her short nails into his hand.

  “...Might propose to her.” He opened his eyes, giving Lady Castewell a smile that he hoped was reassuring, “She said yes, of course.”

  He heard several exclamations and he realized that Lady Castewell was no longer the only person standing by the door, watching the goings-on with eager eyes.

  Next to her was her sister and bestfriend, Lady Sedona, two other gasping debutantes and, staring at him with a mixture of disgust and disbelief, Ms. Hawke’s younger brother.

  “Well,” Lady Castewell said, clearly shocked but doing her best to act as if this were all perfectly normal. “I suppose we should do our best to congratulate the two of you. What a happy occasion, of course.”

  “Yes,” Marian said from beside him, squeezing his hand even tighter, “What a _happy_ turn of events, just so _fortunate_.”

  Suddenly Fenris realized that he had misjudged Ms. Hawke. She had not been terrified before, at least not by the prospect of being caught with another gentlemen. If she had been he wouldn’t have stumbled upon her skulking about in someone else’s office. No, she had clearly been waiting for Lady Castewell to leave so that she could continue her investigation.

  
  “Dear Brother,” she said, “I am so glad that you could be here to… Be a part of this.” It was then that she finally turned to look at Fenris, her full mouth turned upwards into a smile that was just a touch too perfect to be real. “But, if you do not mind, I would like a moment alone with my new fiance.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke gets lectured, a lot.

  Fenris, mercifully, was spared from spending any “alone time” with his new fiancee by the sudden arrival of his friend Lord Sebastian Vale and Mr. Hawke’s insistence that, no, Marian was going to come with him  _ immediately _ . Lady Castewell had ushered away most of the other gossip-mongers, though not before she had pulled Fenris aside and wished him good luck with “That wild Hawke girl.”

  Despite everything Fenris still felt assured that he had done the right thing. After all, while Ms. Hawke’s allegations were wild it was clear that she believed them, and was simply trying to do the right thing…

  ...By breaking into someone’s office and stealing their papers.

  “You don’t look very happy for a man that was just engaged,” Sebastian said from where he was seated on the opposite side of the carriage they were now traveling in. “I would have expected you to be nearly singing- After all, isn’t this why we came to London? To find respectable wives?”

  “‘Respectable’ is not a term that is, apparently, often applied to Ms. Hawke.” Fenris grumbled from where he sat, head held in his hands.

  “But she is, or rather was, the daughter of a peer. Certainly that makes up for something? Besides, young women are always being unfairly labeled ‘fast’ because they cut their hair too short or expose their ankles. I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice-”

  “I caught her stuffing letters from Lady Castewell’s desk down her dress.”

  Silence descended over the carriage as Sebastian was caught speechless.

  “Well,” he said, finally, carefully trying to gather his words together. “We all have our eccentricities.” Fenris could hear the judgement in his voice but knew that his friend was trying to remain supportive, or perhaps optimistic.

***

  Fenris raised his head in order to glare at his friend from across the carriage, green eyes narrowed. “Eccentricities.” He said. “ _ Eccentricities _ .” 

  Sebastian shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other before uncrossing them again. “I mean, the higher a peer the more oddness they’re allowed- And her father was a Viscount. Plus she’s a lovely looking thing- You could certainly have done worse.”

  Lovely was not a term that was often applied to Ms. Hawke either, though Fenris appreciated that his friend was trying to cheer him up. She wasn’t ugly, per se, but there was nothing particularly remarkable about her appearance either. Her long brown hair had been pulled back in the traditional style and while her eyes were sharp and intelligent they sat in a face that was very average. Not, Fenris thought, that his own appearance was anything to crow about.

  “Yes,” Fenris said, “I suppose I could have become engaged to a murderer, or perhaps a witch.”

  “There’s still time,” Sebastian replied with a smile, “Perhaps Ms. Hawke will spurn you at the altar- I’ve heard that running away with gardening staff is all the rage this year.”

  “Please,” Fenris said, “Don’t get my hopes up.”

  Sebastian chuckled and then looked out the window, face taking on a dreamy expression. “Still, at least you’re engaged now. I wish I could say the same.”

  “You say that now,” Fenris said, “You say that now.”

***

  Marian’s night had started out poorly and had only gone downhill from there. First, she had tried to sneak out of her parents home in order to go to Lord Castewell’s ball, only for her brother to catch her and insist that he accompany her.

   Secondly, she had been interrupted in her sleuthing and while she had gotten several letters that she thought might prove to be promising she knew that, had she simply had more time, she might have been able to gather more damning evidence. Getting back into the Castewell’s home might very well be impossible now and she prayed that Mr. Scavo had not completely ruined her chances of discovering the truth.

  And thirdly… She moaned just thinking of the fact that she was now technically engaged. Of course she had every intention of convincing Mr. Scavo to break it off, it would just be a matter of biding her time and waiting. After all, he had only proposed to her out of some misguided sense of honor. If he had truly known her he wouldn’t have bothered and Marian was confident that she would be free of their little arrangement soon enough.

  “Marian, are you even listening to me?”

  “Yes, Mother,” she said, clearly lying as her mother’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. “Of course.”

  Her mother, Lady Leandra Hawke, just crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Marian. “And what, might I ask, did I just say?”

  “...That I’m a terrible daughter and a poor lady but marriage will surely reform me and my scandalous ways?” Marian blinked her eyes, trying to make them appear wide and innocent, but her mother just snorted and rolled her eyes. 

  “Marriage is going to do nothing of the sort. And what I actually said was that you endangered more than just your reputation by going out tonight. Do you have any idea what might have happened to you, had Lady Castewell discovered why you were really there? Which is to say nothing of how hare-brained your scheme is-”

  “It’s not a scheme-” Marian rose in the lushly padded chair she had been lounging in while her mother lectured her, “Father was innocent and I intend to prove it-” She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, the way they always did when her and her mother went through this old argument. It didn’t matter how many times they went back and forth- It never failed to bring an emotional rise out of Marian. “ _ You  _ may not care about getting justice for Father but I do-”

  “ _ Marian that is enough _ ,” her mother’s thundering voice stopped any further arguments from her and, now more miserable than she had been all night, she sat back in the chair. Both women stared at each other, the silence between them only interrupted by the crackle of flames in the fireplace and the slow ticking of the old grandfather clock which sat in their parlor.

  “Listen to me and listen closely,” her mother started again, “I overlooked this when your father first died because I knew you were grieving. But you are nearly twenty-two and a woman grown now and it is time for you to put these things away. For you to move on.”

  “But-” Marian opened her mouth before closing it again and sighing heavily. “But I could get the family honor back- Could clear Father’s name-”

  “You will get the family honor back by marrying well,” Leandra replied, “And by never speaking of this again. You have a real future now- With a man who… Who will treat you well. You must concentrate on making him a good wife, on becoming a good mother and mistress of your own household. You should aim to be a Lady admired for her strength but even more importantly for her morals and poise.”

  Marian frowned heavily as her mother went on and she looked down at her hands, pale and slim from years of needlework, painting, and other suitably ladylike pursuits. That night they had also broken open several locks and stolen sensitive documents. They had let her dance with gentlemen and then deceive her way into the heart of her enemy’s home.

  Though she understood her mother’s concern she was no young, naive debutante. And although she wanted to honor her mother’s wishes, more than anything, she also knew that she had her own path to walk. One that did not involve her mother or some future husband controlling her.

  Slowly she folded her hands together and settled them in her lap before sitting up straight and looking at her mother.

  “I understand, of course. I won’t bother you about this again Mother.” She looked down demurely and rolled her shoulders slightly inward. “Becoming engaged to Mr. Scavo was… Not something I wanted, but it’s made me realize how foolish I’ve been about this whole thing.” She tilted her face up again and finished, “And I am sorry, for all the grief I’ve brought you.”

  Leandra Hawke stared at her daughter, not quite sure whether to believe her or not. This was by no means the first time that Marian had said something  like this, promising to change, but unlike all of the times before this Leandra found herself actually believing her daughter.

  “Thank you dear,” she said with a small sigh, “Now go on up to your room- It’s been a long night and I’m sure we’ll have more than our fair share of callers tomorrow, wanting to wish us well and,” she raised both eyebrows meaningfully, “Garner whatever details they can about your engagement.”

  “Of course Mother,” Marian rose and, after stepping forward to give her mother a brief kiss on the cheek, turned back towards the door to leave, feeling only a little guilty about lying to her.

  Softly closing the door to the parlor behind her Marian slowly began to make her way down the long, darkened hallway, only to be stopped by a figure stepping in front of her.

   “What-” She barely kept herself from yelping out as the figure moved in front of her, revealing themselves to be her brother.

   “Carver,” she said, “What are you doing, trying to scare me?”

  “You spoke with mother,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m assuming you two figured out a way out of this silly engagement thing you’ve stumbled into?”

  “Engagement- Oh, no, that’s… Not what we discussed.” She could tell by the way that Carver’s face turned from a scowl to a glower that that had been absolutely the wrong answer. “Please, don’t worry-”

  “Don’t worry-” Carver huffed out an indignant breath, “You’re engaged to be married to a man that you barely know-”

  “Actually,” Marian said, trying to be helpful, “I hadn’t been formally introduced to him before tonight.

  “You, what-”

   “I mean,” she started, shrugging carelessly, “We have a few shared acquaintances and I’m sure I’ve been to other parties with him in attendance, but he’s never asked to dance with me or introduced himself or…”

  “No,” Carver said, shaking his head, “I will not allow you to be married off to some- Some complete and total stranger.”

  “Well,” Marian said, “I do know a little more about him now. Like, for example, that he gets really red in the face when he’s angry. Sort of like you’re doing now.”

  Carver just stared at her and, though she was a good three years older than him, Marian couldn’t help but feel like a recalcitrant younger sister being lectured.  _ Again _ .

  “Carver,” she said, placing a hand on his arm and briefly losing her flippant attitude, “I know that you just want to protect me but I’m certain that Mr. Scavo is a good man and will treat me well.” She patted his arm, smiling up at him and, with a confidence she didn’t truly feel, continued, “Don’t worry, I have all of this under control.”

  Her brother just stared at her, obviously not believing a word of what she was saying. Marian tried not to be offended, though it was difficult. She’d spent that entire night dealing with disapproving lecture after disapproving and was frankly tired of it all.

  “Now,” she said, straightening her shoulders and looking up at Carver with a haughty expression on her face, “I am quite fatigued from the excitement of tonight and would very much appreciate it if you let me past. I will need my rest for tomorrow.”

  Though he looked as if he were going to deny her Carver finally stepped to the side, allowing Marian to move past them, the ballgown she still wore swishing gracefully around her ankles. She ascended the back stairs that would lead her to her room, ignoring the feeling of his stare boring into her back. She would prove them all wrong, she thought to herself- Mr. Scavo, her mother, her brother- And anyone else who had ever believed the terrible rumors about her father.

  But as she stepped into her room she felt some of her determination drain away. It was now the early hours of the morning and she was tired beyond belief. Carefully she moved to her little writing desk and after setting down the candle stick she held she began the slow process of extricating the letters that had remained stuffed down in her bodice half the night. Most of them were crumpled badly and she grimaced as she attempted to smooth them out. 

  The pile, when she was finally done, at least looked much more impressive than she had expected. It meant that she would have that much more to go through but Hawke didn’t mind. What she desired most of all right now was information. 

  Well, at the moment sleep was perhaps higher on that list but only because of the late hour. In the morning, she promised herself, she would get right onto it. 

  Idly she looked at the bell pulls that she could use to signal Orana but then decided against it. Though the dresses that had come into style still often required a maid’s assistance to get out of them Hawke had mastered the art of shimmying and struggling her way free of them, usually with minimal tearing. 

  Carefully she moved in front of the mirror and after several long minutes of stretching and squeezing she managed to liberate the gown from her form, followed by her single petticoat, stays and stockings until she was left only in a thin chemise. Much like on her desk she had formed a small pile on the floor of her garments but by this point was too tired to do much with them.

  Exhausted she blew out the candle on her desk and then fumbled her way to her bed, collapsing onto it and then working her way under the covers. They were cold and she shuddered slightly before curling up into a ball on her side. She closed her eyes, already feeling her limbs grow heavy under the blankets.

  Just as she felt herself begin to slowly descend into sleep she thought of Mr. Scavo. A vexing problem to be sure, but one she rather enjoyed looking at. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because Marian is the daughter of a viscount her title in letters would be "The Honorable Marian Hawke" shortened to "The Hon. Marian Hawke" here

  The most surprising thing the next morning brought was not the endless line of callers who wished to offer their felicitations and tried to extract even a hint of what had happened the night previous. Those were all very expected and although Marian had never been much of a lady she had learned just enough to fend off most of them.

  No, what was the most surprising, and frankly concerning, thing was the missive she received from a one Mr. Fenris Scavo which read:

 

  Ms. Hawke, 

  I respectfully request to take you out for a carriage ride this afternoon. Your mother and siblings are welcome to accompany you.

Yours, 

Mr. Fenris Scavo

 

  Marian stared down at the neat, evenly spaced letters, frowned as her eyes traced over the carefully printed ‘Yours.’ Likely Mr. Scavo wanted to speak with her and while she wanted nothing less she supposed that she ought to be seen with him. They were engaged to married now and she ought to at least pretend like it was true.

  Quickly she dashed off a letter and gave it to her maid to send off.

 

  Mr. Scavo

  I happily accept your invitation. However, as I am now a fully-grown, engaged woman I intend to see you without the aid of my mother or siblings.

Best,

The Hon. Marian Hawke

 

  It was between the four and fifth callers, though frankly they were all beginning to blend together at this point, that she received a reply.

 

  Ms. Hawke,

  While I admire your confidence in yourself, I should clarify that my offer was not meant to patronize you. I would greatly enjoy meeting your family, especially as I have had little chance to do so. Nevertheless, I will arrive at your home promptly at three o’clock. My carriage does hold five, should you change your mind.

Yours,

Mr. Fenris Scavo

 

  Marian read the words once and then a second time, humming thoughtfully to herself. She’d expected Mr. Scavo to become offended or at least a little off-put by her response but instead he seemed… Amused. Not that it was easy to discern what he was feeling through letters. And perhaps he was simply trying hard not to offend her.

  Which was an odd thought. Though Marian had never formally met Mr. Scavo before the night of the Castewell’s ball she had heard of him off-hand. Born a bastard, his father had eventually married his mother and then named him as his heir. Although he’d been young at the time supposedly he still carried a chip on his shoulder from it and was a rather dour, dreary man.

  The thought of being married to someone like that was not appealing in the least but then, few of the men Marian knew that were ‘marriage-worthy’ appealed to her. They were all far too stodgy and would frown in disgust at her when she made an off-color joke or ate more than was polite. Mr. Scavo was no different than the others, which was why she would have to make it clear that this engagement was not real. 

  No, not at all.

***

  Marian loitered by the front door, impatiently tapping the end of her parasol against her boot. She’d been very careful to dress appropriately in a simple white muslin dress, the only color a border of lavender sprigs embroidered along the collar and edges of the dress. If there was one thing to be said for marriage, she thought, it certainly opened up a woman’s options as far as clothing was concern. 

  Not that she intended to go through with the engagement, of course. But it might be nice to wear something other than a white dress with only a minimal amount of decoration.

  Caught up in her thoughts Marian just barely heard the sound of gravel crunching under hooves and the heavy wheels of a carriage. She saw the butler, Bodahn, begin to amble his way to the door but quickly raised a finger to her lips to stop him.

  The look he gave her was exasperated, but fond, and after exchanging a series of looks he finally raised his hands and motioned her towards the door.

  “Thank you Bodahn,” she said, voice quiet so as not to attract the attention of any of her other family members. She loved them, but she did  _ not  _ love their tendency to meddle. “I’ll get Sandal a book while I’m out.”

  “Thank you Marian,” Bodahn replied with a soft sigh, “Now go on, but be back soon- I can’t cover for you forever.”

  Marian didn’t need to be told twice, instead opening the door and rushing out onto the front drive that gently curved against the front of her family’s home, only to come up short.

  Fenris sat at the front of a sleek phaeton, patiently holding onto the reins of the two bays that snorted gently and shifted in front of him. He was dressed well and Marian took a long moment to simply appreciate the way his cravat accentuated the long column of his throat or how his breeches hugged his legs tightly.

  It was only when her eyes finally travelled back up to lock with his that she realized she had been staring, quite obviously.

  “Good morning to you too, my lady,” he said and suddenly Marian wished to run back inside the house and hide, preferably forever.

  “I was merely-” She started, desperately searching for the social grace that her mother was forever trying to instill in her. “Appreciating the fine…” She watched as Fenris raised one black eyebrow, until it nearly disappeared into his hairline, “...Morning. Lovely weather, really. And not a cloud in the sky.”

  Fenris did something unexpected then- He laughed. Hawke blinked, at first owlishly, before she relaxed into a smile and finally made her way to the carriage.

 “No footman to help you up?” Fenris asked, his smile had disappeared but his eyes still sparked with amusement.

  “Is that not what fiances are for?” Marian looked back up at him and was gratified when he held his hand out to her. 

  She grasped it, feeling the strength of it, and quickly made her way into the carriage.

  “Your siblings and mother decided not to join us?” Fenris asked as Marian settled in beside him. 

  “Oh, no, no, far too busy with other things,” she replied, pointedly not looking at him as she spoke, “I mean, you know how it is- It’s just so terribly difficult to spend quality time with one’s family nowadays and while I appreciate the thought…”

  “Did you even tell them?” Fenris asked, a single black eyebrow raised high.

  “About my going for a turn with you? Of course, you can’t imagine how they would worry if I’d suddenly gone missing.”

  “Is that out of care or because you have a tendency to do that?” 

  Marian glared up at him and replied, “That’s rather rude.”

  “A fair question I think, given the way we met.” Fenris looked forward again adjusting the reins in his hands as the pair of horses took off at a steady trot and utterly ignoring the way that Marian was staring at him.

  “If you must know it’s a slight mixture of both,” she said, huffing a little. “Though last night was my first real escapade in months.” 

  “In months?” Fenris asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “I suppose that is a record for you?” What had he done, engaging himself to this woman? Either she was mad or had a terrible sense of humor. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

  “Well, perhaps not months. But I-” She quieted and Fenris could not help but look down at her. She had begun to tug gently on the lace of her gloves, almost as if she were trying to calm herself. “You really needn’t worry,” she finally said, “About any of that.”

  “I will take your word for that,” he finally said, looking forward again as they slowly crawled through the gates of Hyde Park and he led them onto South Carriage Drive. Many other couples were doing the same thing as they were and Fenris struggled to ignore the curious stares. Though they had not formally announced their engagement news of it had likely spread through much of the  _ ton _ last night and if his valet was to be believed the scandal of being discovered and then their subsequent engagement had made Lady Castewell’s ball.

  Next to him Marian picked up her fan, unfurling it and fluttering it lightly in front of her.

  “There is something else I wanted to speak with you about,” she said, her voice a low murmur though realistically no one else could have heard them. “About our engagement, that is.”

  “Yes?” Fenris asked, already a sense of dread settling in his stomach.

  “Well, it’s just-” She sighed before continuing, “I do truly appreciate what you did, trying to save my reputation. Clearly you are… A honorable man. But you must understand that I have no intention of seeing this engagement through.”

  Fenris felt his blood run cold at her words and he struggled to come up with a response. Not seeing the engagement through?

  “Now, I know that I am likely interfering with your ability to court other eligible young ladies for which I apologize, but if you agree to help me I promise that there are some I could introduce you that would make a very good wife for you…”

  Had he fallen out of the carriage and hit his head on the way to pick up Ms. Hawke? Was that what had happened?

  “...Mr. Scavo, are you listening to me at all?”

  Fenris blinked and turned to stare at her, “I was, I was just not quite believing what I was hearing. 

  “I promise, I am being very earnest,” Marian said, looking up at him the same way she had, that night in Lady Castewell’s office, her eyes bright and full of determination.

  “Alright,” Fenris said, “What is this… Thing you want me to help with?”

  “I want to help clear my father’s name for the murder of Anna Sidwell three years ago.”

  He barely managed to stop himself from pulling up tightly on the reins and sending the horses into a panic but it was obvious from his expression that Marian had shocked him. Worse yet, her words had brought back all of the memories he had been unable to retrieve concerning her and her family. 

  “Malcom Hawke…” He started, “Viscount Jay. Yes, that was your father, of course.”

  He’d heard vague whispers about how the Hawke family had fallen from grace, but before this season Fenris had always made it a point to ignore the gossip that the  _ ton  _ so freely indulged in. He knew that it involved murder and a duel and suddenly he realized he had stepped into something he was absolutely not prepared for.

  Slowly exhaling a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in, he said, “You want me to help you clear your father’s name. How, exactly, am I supposed to do that?”

  “Well,” Marian said, “Before this I had to sneak around and escape my mother or brother if I wanted to investigate anything. Well, I suppose Bethy too but she's usually good about keeping my secrets. Now that I have you, however, we can go to parties together and you can cover for me while I look for evidence. And, once I have all that I need, I’ll free you of any obligations to me.”

  “But you’ll be ruined,” Fenris said, frowning, “You  _ might  _ manage to persuade another gentleman to court you but inevitably you’ll be viewed as…” He hesitated as Marian’s stare turned cold. “Well, I am sure that you are more than aware of how you will be viewed.”

  “Yes,” Marian replied, “I am aware. That does not mean I hold society’s opinion very highly, however.”

  Fenris frowned and shook his head, his lips turning into a grim line. “I cannot allow you to do this. I will not be an accessory to this… This madness.”

  Marian hummed thoughtfully, apparently not offended by Fenris’ words. Likely, Fenris thought, he was not the first person to call her or her harebrained schemes mad. 

  “You have an Uncle, do you not, that you wish to avoid?”

  Fenris stared at her before he narrowed his eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I do not usually listen when Mother blathers on about gossip but some of it does stick. Such as the mysterious circumstances that swirl about a new gentleman that has come to London looking for a bride.” Marian slid her gaze to the side, looking at him over her fan. “I suppose it could work better, this way- You help me and I help you.”

  Fenris frowned, clearly not in agreement. Still he could not help but ask, “What, exactly, do you know of my situation?”

  “Oh, just whispers,” Marian said lightly, “You know how people like to gossip.”

  “I am aware,” Fenris replied, the disapproval in his voice clear. “Though I have done my best not to fuel the gossipmongers any more than I can.”

  “Which is how you found yourself engaged to me, Marian Hawke of the rather scandalous Hawkes?”

  “Yes,” Fenris said and Marian could not help but grin at the face he made.

 “Do you know, my parents eloped? Of course, my father was the son of a viscount and my mother the daughter of a knight but still- It was quite the scandal, from what I have heard.” Marian chattered about this freely, as if either not realizing or not caring that a family like that could scare any suitors away. Fenris suspect it was the latter. 

  “Is this your way of saying that we are not doing so terribly?” His voice was amused and when he turned slightly to look at her Marian felt her breath catch at the sight of him, a small, almost impish, smile on his face.

  “Exactly,” she said, quickly turning away. “Look at us two, perfectly respectable members of our communities, going for a mid-afternoon carriage ride through Hyde Park.”

  “Whilst plotting how to find a murderer,” he drawled, “A perfectly normal activity.” 

  “It’s a very popular parlour game in France, or so I am told,” Marian replied, grinning up at him. “I am sure it will be all the rage here, given a few months.”

  “It does feel good to be fashionable again,” Fenris replied and was heartened when Marian actually laughed with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you all of you for all of the lovely comments!! i appreciate them so much!!!

  “Mother,” Marian started as she slowly stirred her soup, “What do you know of Fenris Scavo?” The hesitance in her voice, so unusual, must have alerted her mother that something was wrong. They were all, her, her mother, Carver and Bethany, sitting and having a generally pleasant lunch and she had taken advantage of a lull in the conversation to ask her question.

  “I know more than enough,” Leandra replied, “He most certainly would not have been my first pick for you but, given the circumstances, he will have to do.” She took a graceful sip and, after thinking for a moment continued, “You will, at the very least, be comfortable.”

  Marian raised an eyebrow as she asked, “Comfortable?”

  “Well,” Leandra started, leaning forward slightly in her chair, a special sort of fervor in her eyes that only appeared when she either learned some salacious new gossip or was about to spread it: “Supposedly his Uncle, Danarius Scavo, currently controls his fortune. But, if or once he marries, he will finally have access to it.”

  Between them Carver, who had been attempting to eat in peace, groaned. “Can we please speak of something else? Something that doesn’t have to do with fortunes or eligible bachelors or whatnot?”

  “Why, of course,” Marian smiled at him, “Perhaps we can speak of all the young ladies jockeying for  _ your  _ affection? There was one you seemed to like so much- Oh, what was her name? Peaches?”

  “Peaches? That girl?” Leandra looked at him in disapproval, “You know she’s rather fast-”

  But Carver had already turned his eyes back down to his soup bowl and was trying to eat as quickly as possible in order to get away from his conniving sister and match-making mother. His face, Marian could not help but notice, had also turned a rather delightful red.  

  She felt a kick under the table which, based on how pointy the toe was, had to have come from Bethany. When she looked up at her sister however she was gracefully sipping her tea, an almost angelic appearance on her face.

  Marian frowned, her eyes narrowing into slits, but her sister appeared to be completely unaffected.

  “Mother,” Marian finally said, mercifully interrupting her lecture about what made a young woman marriageable, “About Mr. Scavo, again?”

  “Oh, yes-” Leandra lifted her spoon, moving it in the air as a conductor might a baton, “Well, supposedly his fortune is quite impressive but it was all left in the hands of his Uncle- His parents died when he was rather young, you see.”

  “But certainly he’s reached his majority by this point?” Marian thought back to all of her interactions with Fenris and, while she did not know his exact age, she was certain that he had to be old enough to gain access to his inheritance.

  “Of course, but  _ supposedly  _ the stipulations of his parent’s will dictated that he had to marry first. Strange, of course, but then the Scavo’s always have been that way.”

  Marian frowned, thinking that it was rather cruel to do that a person, but supposed it would be a rather effective way of making one marry. She wondered, too, if it had anything to do with the circumstances surrounding his birth. It would be cruel and hypocritical but, Marian supposed, not terribly surprising.

  “Why,” her mother had continued, apparently not noticing that none of her three children were actively listening to her, “That’s probably the only reason he came to London in the first place. He is quite the recluse, from what I have heard and, after his parents died he never came back to London. Before now, anyway.”

  Marian blinked at that, pulled from her thoughts about Mr. Scavo and his parents, “He didn’t seem to have any problems when we took a turn earlier-”

  “You went out with him?” Leandra all but screeched and suddenly Marian realized that she had made a grave mistake.

  “Well, he is my fiance now-” She began, attempting to backpedal so hard that she could almost feel the sting in her feet.

  “Sister,” Carver said, finally looking up again, “You barely know that man-”

  Even little Bethany, who rarely judged her for anything, was staring at her with wide, sad brown eyes. Still she said nothing, Leandra and Carver doing more than enough indignant squawking for the three of them.

  Two Hawkes squawking, Marian thought to herself, but was distracted from her frankly brilliant pun by her mother declaring that Marian was giving her heart palpitations.

  “And how better will I get to know him?” Marian rolled her eyes and then sniffed, affecting the demeanor of a young debutante, “You cannot seriously ask me to marry a man I do not know. And so, I want to learn about him, spend time with him”

  This argument seemed to finally silence Carver and her mother, though neither looked happy about it.

  “Well,” Leandra said, settling back in her chair, a thoughtful, if tired, expression on her face. “I suppose you  _ are  _ engaged to the man now. There is little that you could do to further harm your reputation.”

  Marian beamed at her. “Of course, Mother, you are quite right,” she said, trying not to take it as the challenge it was.

***

  “Merrill? Merrill are you there?” Marian did her best not to shout, not wanting to alert anyone that at the present moment she was standing beneath her best friends window late in the evening, trying to get her attention so that she could encourage her to sneak out.  Engaged or not, she knew she would punished for it.

  Frowning she bent over to look for any rock that might be hiding in the well-manicured lawn or under the bushes. She needed one that was big enough to make an impact but not too large as to shatter Merrill’s window. She’d already made that mistake once and was not eager to repeat the experience. Just as she found one that she thought might be suitable, however, Merrill’s window opened up and her friend poked her head out.

  “Carver?” She asked, squinting a little before suddenly perking up, “Oh, Marian! Hello! What are you doing here?”

  “I have to talk to you,” Marian whisper-shouted back, “Wait, why were you expecting my brother? Nevermind, I don’t-” She shook her head, deciding she could interrogate Merrill about that later. “Can you come down at all?”

  “I’m sorry,” Merrill said, voice filled with regret, “My aunt caught me trying to sneak out another time and now they’ve begun locking my door from the outside. I’m absolutely trapped in here.”

  “Don’t worry Merrill, I can still reach you!” It was a proud boast, though not necessarily a realistic one. As Marian’s eyes settled on the lovely trellis that lay just beneath Merrill’s window she decided that it couldn’t hurt to try.

  Well, unless if she fell and broke her neck that was.

  Still she thought as she stepped to the bottom of it, hand moving over the rough wooden panelling, if she died she also wouldn’t have to marry Mr. Scavo. Nor would she be able to clear her father’s name, but she trusted Carver and Bethany to pick up the slack, should anything happen to her.

  “Oh Marian, do be careful!” The worry in Merrill’s voice was evident as she clutched her windowsill, watching with wide eyes as her friend attempted the climb. Though empire-waist gowns were fashionable they were decidedly not made for such strenuous activity and Merrill winced when a part of Marian’s dress snagged on a nail and ripped.

  “Oh damn,” Marian muttered before looking back up at Merrill again, “Well,” she said, giving her friend a lopsided smile, “I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t throw my pelisse on over this- Mother would have gone mad if she’d seen that I ripped that.”

  “Yes, yes,” Merrill said, attempting to remain calm which was difficult as she watched her friend risk her neck ascending the trellis beneath her bedroom “Now finish climbing up.”

  Marian huffed and continued up, wincing as her hands caught on thorns and splinters. Luckily she’d worn her boots but even though they gave her good grip it was clear that the trellis hadn’t been built to hold much more than creeping vines. Finally she made it to the top and stuck her hand up which Merrill was quick to grasp.

  “Alright Merrill, you’re going to help me get through the window on the count of one, two, three-”

  She shoved herself upwards just as Merrill pulled her in and Marian gasped and laughed as she collapsed through the window, ending up in a pile of limbs with Merrill on the bedroom floor. 

  “Well,” she said, grinning, “That was certainly fun.”

  Merrill looked as though she wanted to frown but instead she just shook her head, “Please, Marian, don’t ever scare me like that again."

  But even as she half-listened to her friend Marian was already up and walking around the room, searching for a vanity mirror where she could find something for the scratches on her arms.

  “Of course Merrill, I apologize, I simply didn’t see another way up into your room. But, more importantly, I have a  _ lot  _ to tell you- I went to the Castewell’s-”

  Though she wasn’t quite satisfied with her friend’s response Merrill sighed and got up, pulling open her bedside drawer and retrieving some liniment and bandaging. 

  “Marian,” she said, “Come here and tell me.” For once her friend obeyed, settling on Merrill’s bed beside her, sitting cross-legged, and offering her injured hands out to her friend to inspect.

  Merrill tutted as she began to pick out splinters and thorns, though she never held any real irritation for Marian. Her friend’s intentions were (almost) always good, and how could she truly be angry with that?

  “So,” she said, “What news do you have for me?”

  “Well,” Marian said, “I’m engaged now.”

  Merrill nearly dropped the little jar of ointment she was holding, gasping slightly and looking up at Marian with shock in her eyes.

  “What? To whom? When did this happen? What-” She shook her head, briefly silencing herself, “No, I’m sorry Marian, please continue, I just… This is quite… Something.” She looked up to see Marian grinning mischievously and wasn’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing.

  “Well,” Marian said slowly, “His name is Fenris Scavo, he’s only recently come to London to find a wife and we, well… Stumbled upon each other.”

  Merrill raised a skeptical brow and, having been friends with Marian since they were girls, knew that that was not the entire story. 

  “Alright, well-” Marian giggled a little at the look her friend was giving her, “He caught me sneaking around in Lord Castewell’s office-”

  “Oh, Marian, tell me you weren’t! You promised me you wouldn’t do anything dangerous like that-” She sighed, her shoulders falling slightly in defeat. Her and Marian had had this argument several times since she had first come up with her plan to clear her father’s name and it never seemed like anything she said would change her friend’s mind. Even telling Carver about all of this hadn’t seemed to stop her. And Merrill  _ knew  _ that Carver didn’t approve of Marian’s dangerous activities any more than she did.

  “I’m sorry Merrill,” Marian said, looking genuinely contrite, “I know that you’re worried but this is… Important to me. More than I can explain.”

  “No, no, you’re right,” Merrill replied, slowly moving to take one of Marian’s hands again, the other girl letting her. “I know, if I was brave or strong like you I’d stand up to my Aunt and not be so- So-” 

  Marian gripped her hand, and, fiercely, said, “You are brave and you are strong Merrill. Maybe- Maybe you’re not constantly sneaking out of the house or getting into trouble but, I swear, if I had to live like you did I would have gone mad by now. That fact that you’ve held up so well...”

  “Don’t remind me,” Merrill muttered, before looking up, “Thank you Marian. You… I appreciate it. A lot.”   
  Sighing she looked down again and dipped her fingers in the ointment before rubbing them gently onto Marian’s hands. “Now,” she said, eager to change the subject from her overbearing family to Marian’s love life, “Tell me about this Mr. Scavo.”

  Marian snorted indelicately and opened her mouth to make some dry remark but found herself faltering. She could tell Merrill that Mr. Scavo appeared to be a very serious man but that he actually had a sharp sense of humor. Or she could have told her friend that Mr. Scavo’s smile, when one was lucky enough to catch it, was actually strangely charming.

  “Marian,” Merrill remarked, staring at her with wide green eyes and renewed interest, “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you struck speechless.”

  “Oh- Shove it Merrill,” Marian replied with a laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder against her friend in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “You know that’s not true.”

  “You’re right, I do remember you climbing that tree when we were twelve and falling and getting the wind knocked from you.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, affecting an air of hurt. “Really Merrill, I didn’t know you had it in you to be so cruel.”

  Her friend looked genuinely contrite for a moment and then dissolved in giggles.

 “So, Mr. Scavo is as handsome as my maid told me, is he?”

  Marian sputtered, her face flaming red.

  “N-No, I mean, that is- He is-” Next to her Merrill’s giggles had degenerated into full-on, un-ladylike laughter. 

  “My maid,” Merrill gasped between laughs, “Went on about his eyes for minutes.  _ Minutes _ . He can’t really be that- That pretty, can he?”

  “Of course not,” Marian grumbled, “It’s all- Rumor.”

  “Mm, good,” Merrill said, her laughter finally dying down. “I do not believe I could be married to a man prettier than I was.” 

  “Oh Merrill, I don’t think there’s a man in England prettier than you are.”

  Merrill blushed, ducking her head a little and letting her dark fringe fall into her eyes.

  “W-Well, that remains to be seen, won’t it? Not that I’ll ever know, if my Aunt never lets me leave this room.”

  As if conjured like the Devil himself there was the sudden sound of doors slamming and then feet rapidly moving across hallways, heading closer and closer to where the women sat together.

  “Oh no,” Merrill said, suddenly jumping up, “That must be my Aunt- We must have been too loud-”

  Although Marian’s every instinct told her to stay and defend Merrill against her Aunt’s anger she knew that it would only end in more trouble for them. It had happened before and much as it made Marian’s skin crawl she began to make her way back to the window.

  She stuck her leg out, straddling the sill, but did not leave immediately. Instead she turned back to Merrill who had quickly shoved the salve and bandages away and had jumped under her covers, pretending to be asleep.

  “Merrill,” Marian said, “If you really want to know- He seems to be a genuinely good man.”

  And then Marian was out the window and quickly descending the trellis, the sounds of a fist banging against Merrill’s door fading away into nothingness as her feet hit the grass of the garden and she fled away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is curious, "How to Be a Victorian: A Dawn-to-Dusk Guide to Victorian Life" explains how many women, even upper class women, would keep what amounted to medicine cabinets in their bedside drawers and were often responsible for nursing their relatives. obviously this is set during the regency era, but i find it easy to believe that such traditions dated back far longer.   
> merrill, however, keeps her own drawer especially for hawke.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry it took me this long to update, this week has been a little crazy but I'm hoping to get back on track with updating after this. This chapter is also a little bit longer so I hope you enjoy!!

  Marian spent the next week or two poring over the letters she had received, or rather stolen, from Lord Castewell’s desk. It was slow, tedious work as she had to wait until night fell when everyone else was asleep. To make matters worse, she was constantly being interrupted by visitors or her mother trying to drag her away to help plan her wedding, unaware that it was simply never going to happen.

  The worst distraction of all, however, was undoubtedly Mr. Scavo. Though Marian thought she had made it clear that he was not to take their engagement seriously still he insisted on taking her out for rides around the park or accompanying her to musicales or, worst of all, museums.

  Her mother, disgustingly enough, approved immensely. And it seemed that Mr. Scavo was hell-bent on visiting every last museum in the city, no matter how obscure the subject matter.

  The Natural History Museum, for example, had been fascinating. Marian had never cared much for learning about the natural world but she had to admit that she enjoyed the colorful illustrations of fearsome beasts and massive plants from half-way across the globe. The British Museum too, was a delight. The artwork had been magnificent and watching Mr. Scavo read the explanations intently had been strangely gratifying.

  And then had come the smaller, lesser known museums. The Maritime Museum. A museum dedicated to rocks (and yes, there were some pretty ones, but Maker, who could really stare at stones for hours upon hours? Mr. Scavo, apparently.)

  By the third week of this learning nonsense Marian had had enough and when Fenris showed up on a Wednesday afternoon, stepping out of his carriage to greet her, Marian had to resist the urge to bat him away with her parasol. Instead she just smiled up at him sweetly, taking his arm and letting him guide her into the carriage. The look he gave her was one of barely veiled suspicion and suddenly it made her nervous to realize that he likely knew she was up to no good.

  Well, no good as defined by her mother, other peers and society in general. From Marian’s point of view she was just a simple girl trying to find justice for her father. 

  “Good afternoon Mr. Scavo,” she said, opening her parasol and resting it easily on her shoulder while Fenris twitched the reins, guiding the horses into an easy trot. Marian had noticed that he had a good hand with them, far better than most of the other gentlemen she was acquainted with. He seemed far more patient with his horses too and she found she wasn’t terribly surprised by the realization.

  “Ms. Hawke,” he said, briefly glancing to her, “I hope the day finds you well.” 

  “Very,” she replied, “I’ve been scanning through the letters I’ve found-  Most of which are exceedingly dull.”

  He sighed, a long, forlorn sound. “I have heard nothing from the Castewell household but they are bound to notice their letters missing.”

  “Do you truly think they would accuse me? After all, the notion that we were in there to steal their love letters is ludicrous.”

  “I am glad that you agree,” Fenris said, voice soft and Marian realized that she had been reprimanded. Her cheeks burned and, in the time it took her to think of a witty retort Fenris was already speaking again, “That aside, if Lord Castewell is as dangerous as you think he is, and on this you and I certainly do not agree, don’t you think that you’ve put yourself in danger by stealing his wife’s papers?”

  “Wife’s papers?” Around them the city of London buzzed, other people and horses swirling around them like a busy, colorful river. It made little impact on Marian, however, who was suddenly concentrating intently on what Fenris had said.

  She watched as his brow furrowed, his black eyebrows drawing down as he gave her a look. “It  _ was  _ Lady Castewell’s study you broke into. I thought…” 

  Marian looked ahead again, forcing herself to blink back tears. All this time she had assumed that she had found letters from Lord Castewell to the now Lady Castewell as well as other documents that might point to his guilt. The false engagement, the stress of having to pretend to her mother and society that she was truly going to marry Mr. Scavo-

  “It has to be in there somewhere,” she said, pushing her shoulders back and sitting up straighter. “The evidence of Lord Castewell’s guilt, that is. I cannot- It  _ has  _ to be in there.”

  Fenris took his eyes off the horses for a moment, watching Marian Hawke carefully.

  “You thought…” He started and then shook his head, “Look through your letters. You will find what you will find.” He didn’t want to encourage her on this mad quest but he also found, suddenly, that he couldn’t bear to destroy her hope.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, turning to him suddenly, “I know that I… That this is asking more of you than I ought to. But would you… Help me? Read over the letters? I still have so many to parse through and I... “

  Fenris knew that he ought to say no. That he ought to tell her to give up. But as she stared up at him from beneath the brim of her hat, her brown eyes burning, he found himself incapable of denying her. 

  “Of course,” he said, “I gave my word that I would help you, in whatever way I could.”

  Marian stilled, having expected him to brush her off or to tell her to give up. She supposed that she had encountered so many people in her life that had acted this way towards her that to suddenly find another person…

  She swallowed heavily and suddenly felt his gaze on her, the intentness of it. No one,  _ no one _ , had ever looked at her like that. 

  Quickly she turned to looked forward again, blindly brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to look at the horses, the road, anything to distract her from the way her heart was beating so wildly in her chest or the giddy feeling that coursed through her body. It was, she thought, almost as good as the night she had stolen into the Castewell’s home. 

_ Almost _ .

  “Well,” she said, finally managing some control, “I know how precious your museums are to you, but might I suggest we return to my home? We can set up camp in one of the studies- My mother won’t like it, but…” She shrugged, “She will believe me to be spending quality time with my fiance. And it is terribly difficult to argue with that.”

  Fenris thought it was likely very easy to argue that particular point but he suspected that few bothered to put up the fight. 

  “I suppose,” he finally said, “Though I was rather looking forward to visiting the library today…”

  Marian shot him a side glance, about to apologize, when she realized that he was smiling at her.

  “Are you-” She blinked, “Teasing me?”

  “It has been known to happen,” he replied, “Though not often.” 

  Marian looked at him before turning away, trying to hide her grin behind her fan.

  “You know I-” she started, only to continue when Fenris raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  For a man who seemed to express only a handful of emotions he had an absolutely masterful control over his eyebrows.

  “Well, it’s just- You always seemed so grim, whenever I’ve seen you before, and when other people… Mention you…”

  She trailed off and then stopped herself as she suddenly flushed. She hadn’t meant to offend him, she’d actually been attempting to do the exact opposite, when she watched a blank look come over his face.

  “I did not think myself noteworthy enough for people to gossip over me,” he stated, even though he knew it false. He would never escape the circumstances surrounding his birth and try as he might to ignore it or to not be ashamed he would always be a bastard in the eyes of the  _ ton _ .

  “I am sorry-” She said, and then shook her head, “I merely wanted to say that you- That you are- That you possess a fine sense of humor, despite what other people might say.”

  Fenris snorted at that, still rankled by her earlier words.

  “I cannot say that I agree.” 

  “But you-” Marian stopped, pulling back. It was useless to argue over such a thing, especially when she had to do so around the foot in her mouth.

  An uneasy quiet settled between them, making her want to fidget and pluck at her sleeves like she was a little girl again. Instead she started with, “I would understand if not, but if you still wish to return to my home…”

  Next to her Fenris remained quiet and then finally said, “Yes, that would be fine.” She breathed a sigh of relief next to him and then settled back against the seat as much as she could, her gaze turned outward to the city and its inhabitants. He supposed that it was likely much more interesting that whatever he had to offer.

  Though he genuinely loved museums, and libraries, and galleries, in truth he’d dragged her to so many of those places in an attempt to entertain her.

  Marian Hawke was- He tried to think of a word that could adequately describe her but came up a short. A pity, that he could read so many books and still fail when it came to something so important.

  She was exciting and full of energy and he could almost sit and watch as the gears in her mind turned, whirling constantly as she bounced from one idea to the next. She wasn’t foolish, though he’d heard enough people attach the word to her, she simply refused to be bored.

  He wondered suddenly at her insistence that they end their engagement. At first he had thought it a kindness, however unnecessary, on her part. But as he had begun to spend more time in her company and become used to the idea of making her his wife another, far more disturbing possibility began to present itself.

  Marian Hawke was the daughter of a Viscount and whatever ‘honor’ they might have lost there was no changing that. In a few generations the old scandals would be forgotten but the Hawkes would carry on the title. She was smart, and though he knew that many disagreed with him he thought her pretty. It wasn’t obvious until one talked to her, her intelligence lighting her eyes up in a way that he found difficult to look away from. 

  What if, perhaps, she did not find him good enough?

  He shoved the thought down, as deeply as he possibly could. There was no reason for him to fall into such maudlin thoughts and besides, while she had been doing a terrible job of it Fenris thought it very possible that Marian had been attempting to compliment him.

  “Mr. Scavo?” Marian’s voice next to him pulled him from his thoughts and he looked to her. “I wanted to say thank you,” there was a small smile on her face, one which was almost shy. “For helping me. There are few men I know of who would do such a thing.”

  Fenris blinked and then returned her smile. “Of course, my lady.”

***

  This time when Fenris pulled the carriage slowly to a halt in front of the Hawke residence he was met by a groomsman who was quick to take control of his horses. Fenris helped Marian down and then gave Leta, the mare, a pat on the side before silently promising that he would return to them quickly enough, perhaps with some carrots.

  Turning around he followed Marian inside, watching in amusement as she stopped to give the butler, a short, stocky older man, a friendly pat on the shoulder before zipping away again.

  “Mr. Scavo,” the butler intoned, bending forward at an angle, “Welcome to the Hawke residence. Should you lose Ms. Hawke the library is down the corridor on the left and beyond the first wooden door.”

  “Thank you,” Fenris replied, bemused. Clearly the man had been employed with the Hawke’s for some time. He could still hear the faint clicking of Marian’s low heels on floor, however, and he quickly moved to follow her.

  Their path took him through a wide hallway which boasted portraits from hundreds of years of previous Hawke's. The most recent ones were of Malcolm Hawke and then a large oil painting of the current family but while Fenris wished to linger he was interrupted.

  “Mr. Scavo,” he nearly jumped when, seemingly out of nowhere, a man easily a head if not more taller than him appeared by his side. His eyes were an icy blue and though he had the same hair as her it took Fenris far too long to realize that it was Marian’s brother staring at him coldly in the middle of the hallway.

  “My Lord,” Fenris finally replied, “I apologize, I was going to the library with your sister but found myself distracted by the oil paintings. They were obviously painted with a skilled hand.”

  Carver Hawke, apparently not caring much for fine works of art, just crossed his arms in front of his chest and continued to stare at Fenris who was having difficulty not comparing them to tree trunks. 

  Well, at least it was clear what the current Viscount thought of him. Lovely.

  “I ought to be going, I am sure your sister will come looking for me,” Fenris might have felt suddenly uncomfortable with Carver’s treatment of him but he refused to be intimidated. He moved to walk past him when suddenly Carver stuck his shoulder out. Fenris could have shoved past him but instead he stayed where he was.

  It was not the first time someone had tried to push him. But he would not let his temper flare, no matter how tempting. 

  “Do you think my sister is just some fast girl?”

  Fenris stared at him, eyes burning. He’d expected Carver to make some comment about the circumstances of his birth, that was what they all seemed to do, but he imagined he’d get around to it soon enough.

  “No,” he replied, voice steady, “I do not.”

  Carved seemed dissatisfied with his answer but even as he opened his mouth they both heard the sound of heeled feet running back to them.

  “Carver James Hawke you little piece of-” They both turned to see Marian heading towards them with all the velocity and threat of an arrow. Her face was red and her expression was-

  It took all of Fenris’ control, great as it was, to hide his smile.

  “Marian,” Carver replied, voice cool, “We were merely discussing the art.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, mouth turned down into a scowl. 

  “I apologize for my brother’s behavior Mr. Scavo, he likes to think of himself as some knight in shining armor,” she rolled her eyes and took his arm, beginning to drag him away.

  “I-” Fenris started, wondering suddenly if perhaps Carver had meant to intimidate him because he wanted to protect Marian, rather than because he didn’t think he was good enough. But they were already half-way down the hallway and, in any case, those were not questions he could have asked him.

  Instead he turned forward. Hawke seemed irritated but when she glanced back at him there was a small, almost apologetic smile on her face.

  “Well, here’s the library- I think you’ll like it.” She turned then, opening the door. To her the room was not particularly special- She didn’t much care for books, finding most of them dry and uninteresting but to Fenris it was…

  He forgot himself for a moment as he stepped farther into the room, slowly turning in circles in order to take in all of the bookshelves and the massive amount of books that must have been contained within them. They easily stretched up two stories and there were several bookcase ladders scattered throughout the room so that one could easily access the volumes higher up on the shelves. 

  “Father was a bit of a reader,” Marian said behind him, her tone fond if not enthusiastic.

  “This is… Magnificent,” Fenris replied, and Marian found that she rather liked the way his voice grew lower, almost reverent. “I can only imagine all of the knowledge contained here…” She watched him, drinking in the way that his eyes scanned the titles, the almost hesitant step he took towards the nearest bookcase, his hand outstretched as if to stroke the bound volumes there. 

  And then he caught himself. It was disappointing to watch him pull his hand back and turn to her with a sheepish look on his face.

  “I apologize,” he said, “I find that I am a bit of a reader as well.”

  Marian smiled at him and gave an easy shrug, “If you ever wish to borrow anything…”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “I will… I will consider that.”

  “Good,” she replied and then moved to one of the desks situated in the room. She bent to unlock the lower drawer and out of it pulled a large stack of papers.

  “These,” she said, “Are the letters.”

  “These are… The letters?” Fenris moved to the desk, picking up one of the letters from the large pile it had been sitting on. Before he could stop himself he asked, “You- You fit  _ all  _ of these in your bodice?”

  “I am surprised you did not notice the difference in size,” Marian replied easily and Fenris nearly choked.

  “I-” He started, intent on replying, only to decide that it was much,  _ much  _ safer not to. “We should get… Started… On these…”

  He briefly looked up only to see Marian with a small, satisfied grin on her face and something in her eyes that he found difficult to interpret.

  “You,” he said, voice accusing, “Enjoy teasing me.”

  “Was that ever in question?” she asked, the grin growing wider.

  “I- No,” he said, “No, I suppose it was not.” He looked up at her then and the smile that slowly appeared on his face was devastating. 

  She’d felt as though she had possessed the upper hand but as he looked at her she quickly realized she’d never had it at all.

  Swallowing heavily she looked down and grasped the first letter she put her hand on, her cheeks flaming red.

  “Letters,” she said without preamble, “We should… Get through these, we have a lot to… To look at.”

  “Of course,” Fenris replied, the mirth in his eyes still very evident. “To the letters, then.”

***

  They gave up a few hours later after they’d made it through a good half of the letters. Marian had gone to request tea and they’d made it through most of the pot. 

  He’d moved to pour himself another cup when Marian loudly sighed. Raising an eyebrow he looked over at her to find that she had buried her face in her hands.

  “Problem?” He asked, voice light. 

  She answered with a groan and then looked up at him.

  “Letter after letter of the Castewell’s stodgy courtship and not a single reference to Anna Sidwell. This was an absolute waste of time.” 

  He could tell that she was upset and wasn't quite sure what to say. Hesitantly he said, “I disagree. We have not made our way through all of the letters and perhaps there is something of value in them.”

  “No, there isn’t,” Marian replied, frowning down at the scattered papers. “I-” she sighed and shook her head. “I am sorry, we should have gone to one of your museums.” She looked away then, staring out the windows, her eyes hard.

  “Ms. Hawke, if I may,” Fenris slowly started, not continuing until Marian had turned to look at him. “We may not have done much of note but I feel as though I have passed the afternoon in a very pleasant manner. And I would gladly sit in this library with you, sipping tea and reading, again and again, rather than going to some museum.”

  For a moment Marian just stared at him, her heart having stopped. And then it began to beat in overtime.

  Fenris wasn't sure if perhaps he had overstepped his bounds until suddenly Marian’s face lit up with a brilliant smile that seemed to chase all of the lingering distress away.

  “Thank you Mr. Scavo,” she said, “Though you should be careful, lest I take this as a sign that I should drag you into my affairs again after this is all done.”

  Fenris smiled softly at her and though what he said was, “And how terrible that would be,” what he thought was  _ Please _ .


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Marian are definitely, without question, Just Friends

  “I still do not believe that this is a good idea,” Fenris said softly as they stood next to each in other in the receiving line. 

  “Nonsense,” Marian replied, careful to keep her voice just as quiet, “Anna Sidwell’s brother is going to be at this party and unfortunately I cannot call on him on my own.” She looked up at Fenris, her expression determined, “He does not go out into society much and I have every intention of taking advantage of the fact that he is here now.”

  “And you are going to, what, corner him and demand information?” Fenris could already imagine it now, Hawke in her pink dress batting at Mr. Sidwell with her fan for answers. 

  “No, I simply mean to… To have a conversation with him.”

  “He will know who you-” But Fenris was cut off by the fact that they had made it to the end of the line and now had to greet their hosts. He got through it, barely hiding his impatience, and took his first chance to try and drag Marian away so that he could speak with her privately.

  Marian, however, had other ideas.

  “Come, Mr. Scavo, down to the ballroom. We will be expected there.” She tugged at the elbow she had looped her arm around and though Fenris was tempted to resist he knew that no good would come of it. Besides, he knew that their hasty engagement was already a source of gossip and he had no intention of adding to the rumors swirling around them. 

  And so instead he followed her down the long steps that led into the ballroom, grumbling all the way. He had agreed to accompany her because he considered it a part of his promise to help her, but he did not think that she was going about it the right way at all.

  Had they done what he thought was best they would have gone back to the Hawke’s library and gone through the rest of the letters. Instead Marian had given them up for a lost cause, insisting that more progress could be made interrogating the relatives of Anna Sidwell.

  Which was problematic, as her only living relative had been her brother, Mr. Sidwell. Both of her parents had passed and there were few other relatives that might have cared or known anything about the circumstances behind her death in the first place. 

  “I do not see him,” Marian remarked as they walked along the perimeter of the ballroom. Many other couples and groups were doing the same thing, occasionally stopping to talk to an acquaintance or friend that they had seen. 

  “Perhaps that is for the best,” Fenris said.

  Marian turned to frown heavily at him, only to stop as something beyond his shoulder seemed to catch her attention.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, “Someone is heading towards us with an unbearably smug look on his face.”

  Fenris raised an eyebrow at her remark and then turned to look to see where she was staring, only for his heart to stop.

  “No,” he said, swallowing audibly, “I-”

  “Do you know them?” Marian asked, eyebrows furrowed, “Friends of yours?”

  “We should go out to the gardens.  _ Now _ .” And this time when he attempted to drag her away Marian went willingly, though she couldn’t help but throw a look back over her shoulder at the people who had been heading towards them.

  One had been an older gentleman with hair that had perhaps once been black but was now almost entirely grey and the other a young woman with dark hair and pretty blue eyes. And while they had both been smiling, appearing pleasant enough, she could not help but shiver at how… Cruel their eyes had been. Fenris’ reaction to them only made her more curious.

  She kept her questions to herself however. If there was one thing she had learned about Mr. Scavo in their time spent together it was that he was an exceedingly private person and she would respect that.

  “Well,” she said, once they stepped outside of the ballroom and onto the patio that would lead into the gardens, “It is nice to get away from all of that noise. I do hate how unbearably warm ballrooms become once they grow crowded.”

  Next to her Fenris stood straight, almost rigid, staring out into the dimly lit gardens. Small torches had been placed for anyone who might wish to take a stroll and, gently, Marian tugged at his arm to encourage him to walk towards one of the paths.

  “I always did enjoy spending time in the gardens of my family’s home- Though it’s nothing like the wildness of our country home. Absolutely beautiful, especially during the spring time.” She chattered on but, though Marian was capable of talking for hours she could not help the sense of unease that filled her. Even when she had seen Mr. Scavo upset or unhappy before he always made an attempt to engage in conversation with her but now…

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, voice quiet, “What do you think of the gardens?” Perhaps if she asked him a direct question he would finally respond to her.

  At first she thought that he was simply going to keep ignoring her. Though he walked beside her he still stared straight ahead, jaw tense.

  Finally, however, he spoke: “That was my Uncle, Danarius, and his daughter Hadriana.”

  Marian searched his expression and slowly, said, “You do not appear to much like them.”

  “No,” he snorted derisively, “I do not.” After a moment his shoulders fell slack and he said, “My apologies Ms. Hawke, you do not deserve to bear my anger over- Over them. I merely… I did not expect to see them tonight, at this… Gathering. I truly thought that they had decided to not come to town for the season.”

  “I could imagine that would be upsetting,” Marian replied. She knew, from what her mother had told her, that Danarius Scavo had control over Fenris’ fortune but had not known that there was such bad blood between them as there obviously was. She supposed it should not have been surprising and yet she could not help but feel as though there was more to the story.

  More that Mr. Scavo, undoubtedly, would refuse to tell her.

  “Well,” she said, “We do not have to return inside. Or perhaps we could go to another party- I know we would be welcome at the musicale Lady Margaret is having.”

   Frowning Fenris turned to her and shook his head. “No, we could not. I refuse to- To run with my tail between my legs. And you must still speak with Mr. Sidwell.” They had stopped in the middle of one of the garden paths and turned to face each other. Fenris could hear other couples who had taken to walking the paths but ignored them. Marian had led them down a rather secluded path and he doubted anyone would come to interrupt their conversation.

  “Mr. Scavo,” Marian said, moving to rest a hand on his arm, “I can always find Mr. Sidwell at some other party. If your Uncle and cousin are truly so upsetting to be around, well, I do not want you to have to suffer their company. Besides,” she continued, her tone teasing, “I know you to be a fair man. If you do not like them you must have a good reason.”

  She was looking up at him, her small brown eyes gentle and the hand that rested on his coat jacket was so warm he swore he could feel it burn down all the way to his skin. 

  “I could not ask that of you,” he said, his voice soft. He wanted to leave desperately, to not be anywhere near his conniving Uncle or his cruel cousin. But that meant taking away Marian’s chance to talk to Mr. Sidwell and though he still thought it was a terrible idea something about doing that to Marian did not sit easily with him.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, “Though I have not known you terribly long I consider you a friend. I have many faults,” she chuckled and shrugged a little carelessly, “Believe me, my mother has iterated them all to me at one point or another. But I would do anything for my friends and that includes you. Now, let us go, shall we?”

  The smile she gave Fenris was bright, meant to comfort him. But it was her words that echoed through his head, that sent his pulse racing. How could she stand there, appearing so certain? So eager to help him? It made him feel at once nervous and warm, like fleeing and yet, paradoxically, moving closer to her.

  “Ms. Hawke,” he said softly, he did not look quite so distressed but he did not look happy either, exactly.

  “Mr. Scavo?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She watched as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

  His throat, she thought, appeared rather strong and attractive, the cravat he wore accentuating it. Which was a ridiculous thought to have, especially about one’s friend. 

  Friend. Mr. Scavo was her friend and she was ogling him while she should have been concerned and now he had tilted his head to the side and-

  Fenris raised his hands to Marian’s shoulders, pulling her slightly closer to him, and then he leaned down and kissed her.

  There was a brief pause as Marian stood there, stunned. Fenris felt his heart drop, the shame already creeping up his neck, and started to pull away when suddenly it was as though Marian came to life against him.

  She moved her arms up, wrapping her hands around his neck and actually kissed him back, her lips now pressed hard against his. His hands dropped to her waist and he pulled her flush against him as he deepened the kiss.

  Marian made a low noise in the back of her throat, shivering as Fenris’ knee pressed between her legs.

  And then, just as suddenly, he pulled back.

  They were both panting, both flushed, and Marian felt rather gratified that Fenris looked as disarrayed as she felt.

  And then he said, “I am so sorry, my lady, I-”

  He stepped away, and Marian could not help but reach out to him.

  “Mr. Scavo please-” she said, hand hanging in the air between them. “I- That was- There is no reason to apologize.”

  “I kissed you,” he said, sounding vaguely scandalized himself, “I should not have-”

  “I enjoyed it,” she interrupted him, “And, unless if you regret it, I see no reason why we must stand here and- And apologize to one another. We are- Friends, as I said.”

  Her mind was still a little too foggy to determine whether that logic was sound or not. But it seemed to keep Fenris from fleeing, as it looked like he wanted to do. 

  “Friends,” Fenris replied. They had just shared a kiss, once he had barely been able to tear himself away from, and Marian was still going on about them being friends. 

  But she had also said that she enjoyed it and Fenris had to fight to keep the smile off of his face.

  “Yes, friends. And friends are allowed some liberties when it comes to hugging and such, are they not?” Marian looked down, primly straightening her gloves as she spoke and hoping that she sounded more authoritative than she felt.

  Her heart still beat madly in her chest and although it was dark she knew that the blush on her face would be evident. Though she had been kissed before she had to admit that none had ever made her feel quite like this. She felt as though she could have kept kissing Mr. Scavo far past the point at which she usually became impatient. She felt as though she would not have minded it if he had tried to push her up against the hedges, as some other young men had done. In fact, she felt like she might have enjoyed pushing  _ him  _ against one of them.

  But then he had pulled away and, well, Marian had come back to her senses. For the most part, anyway. 

  “Do all of your... Friends take such liberties?” He asked, trying very hard to keep his tone neutral.

  “Of course not,” Marian replied and then seemed to find a rather fascinating spot on her dress to look at. “That is- No, none of them do.” Before Fenris could ask her any more questions she was incapable of answering she said, “We should- We should go. I would not want anyone to catch us dawdling in the gardens.”

  Fenris raised an eyebrow, “As if your reputation could suffer anymore?”

  “No, but my hearing will if my mother finds out about this. She has a nasty screech, even for a Hawke.” And then she turned and quickly began moving away, forcing Fenris to stifle his laughter and follow after her.

  A long silence followed them, finally broken by the sound of twigs snapping under a heeled foot. The owner of the foot, when she was certain that she was alone, finally stepped out around the hedges and into the path, staring hard after the retreating figures. She had not meant to overhear their conversation, or the awkward flirtations that had followed. When she had realized who the two people were she had meant to leave, in fact, immediately. 

  But then she had heard Ms. Hawke speaking of the Sidwells.

  Lady Castewell absently ran her thumb over the handle of her fan as she thought on this. Perhaps Ms. Hawke had wanted to speak with Mr. Sidwell for some other, unrelated reason.

  And perhaps Lady Castewell was actually a goose stuffed into a lady’s empire waist gown.

  She snorted derisively at the image before quickly beginning to stride back to the main house. She would dance and drink and socialize as if she had heard nothing but as soon as she went home that night she was going to ask Lord Castewell some pressing questions.

  When she had discovered Mr. Scavo and Ms. Hawke in her study she had been suspicious from the beginning but had not known how to voice her doubts. After all, it was common enough for couples to escape during a party in order to find some time alone and it was just a stroke of bad luck that she had happened upon them.

   Except that, before that night, Ms. Hawke and Mr. Scavo appeared to have not known each other.

  And, what was more, she knew for certain that her office doors had been firmly, undeniably, locked. 

***

  “Ms. Hawke,” Fenris said as the carriage they sat in slowly rolled along the gravel drive to the front of her home where he would be dropping her off in a few moments. “I had a lovely evening.”

   “As did I,” she said, flashing him an easy smile, “The musicale was overly long of course and only one of the debutantes on display could carry a tune but, well, that is the way of these things is it not?”

  Fenris chuckled, “It has been some time since I have moved amongst society. But yes, that is one aspect that is as I remember it.”

  They both quieted for a moment, an easy silence falling between them. Though Mr. Scavo had fallen into brooding a few more times that night Marian had been able to draw him out of every one of them, distracting him with remarks about the other partygoers or teasing him. Neither had talked about the kiss and though she burned with curiosity they had not spoken about his uncle and cousin.

  Danarius. He hadn’t seem especially threatening, just another older gentleman with greying hair and tired eyes but if Fenris did not like to be around him, well, Marian trusted his judgement. He had been raised by the man, after all.

  “We are here,” Fenris said, breaking Marian out of her reverie.

  “Oh, of course,” she replied. He stepped out from the carriage and then helped her down before leisurely walking towards the door.

  If Marian hadn’t known better she would have thought that Fenris was intentionally moving that slow to spend more time with her. But that, of course was silly. They got along surprisingly well, but there was nothing more than that.

  And yet when they stopped before the door and they turned towards each other to say their goodnights Marian swore it felt just as it had in the moment before he had kissed her, the first time.

  She had told him that she was not in the habit of letting her friends kiss her but for him, perhaps, she would make an exception.

  Before she could make any move however Fenris smiled down at her and said, “Good night, Ms. Hawke. I will call on you shortly.” He squeezed her hand and, with what seemed like a look of regret passing over his face, turned and moved back down the stairs and towards the carriage.

  Marian watched him as he entered the carriage and then as it drove away, rattling along the gravel. She continued to stand there until it faded from her sight and she could no longer hear it.

  Maker, but she had so much to tell Merrill.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian receives a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all of the comments, they truly give me life! Now, some notes about the chapter-
> 
> Historically Whitechapel was a working class neighborhood and sits on the River Thames along which are what are known as the London Docklands (such as the St. Katherine Docks which is a real place, mentioned in this chapter.) At the time that I'm writing in it was not a particularly nice place to live and later become the site for some of Jack the Ripper's killings, as well as generally being what we think of when we think of Dicken's England.
> 
> Basically- Hawke should absolutely not go there but, of course, she's going to anyway.
> 
> Also, I know that Marian and Bethany are adults here but *I* still get into tickle fights with my adult siblings sooo
> 
> Also also, often one's title is different from one's family name (for example, the Duke of Norfolk's family name is actually Fitzalan-Howard) but I didn't want to give either Hawke or Sebastian new family names, thus the repetition.

  Several days later Marian Hawke awoke to a letter, though it was not from Mr. Scavo. She tried to ignore the pang of disappointment but the fact that it was there at all was a little disturbing. Well, she supposed that they had been spending more time with each other as of late and it was only natural that she would miss this friend, as she missed all of her friends.

  There was no name or return address, which was a little odd though she brushed it off and decided to open the letter anyway. Perhaps whoever the sender of the letter was had had a runner drop it off and thus had no need for such things.

  It was only when she began to read the letter that she realized it was more likely due to the author not wanting to be identified.

_The Hon. Ms. Hawke,_

 

 _You wish for answers concerning the death of Anna Sidwell. I have them._ _Meet me at the St. Katharine Docks tonight at 10 o’clock._

_Come alone._

 

_Yours sincerely,_

_A friend_  

Marian Hawke read the letter and then reread it again, parsing through the neat script which looped and curled pleasantly. The St. Katharine docks were on the river Thames, near the Tower of London. It was also very close to Whitechapel, a part of the city that she knew well enough to avoid. But the Tower of London had long been a tourist attraction and while she had never been to the St. Katherine Docks she felt relatively confident that no harm would come to her.

  But while Marian Hawke could be forgiven for being naive at times she was no fool and she knew better than to go alone. And there was only one person that she trusted to go with her.  

  Quickly she placed the letter to the side and opened her desk drawer to pull out her own piece of foolscap. The letter she wrote was brief, but, she was certain, would be impossible to resist.

_Dear Mr. Scavo,_

_The trail has grown hot and I intend to to follow it. I will meet you at your home tonight at half after 9._ _Wear dark clothing._

_Your friend,_

_Marian Hawke_

  She sent it off and then returned to her room, only to immediately fall into pacing. She glanced at the clock and was disheartened to see that it was only a few minutes past eight in the morning.

  Eleven hours. She had eleven hours until she could make her way to Mr. Scavo’s house and they could go to the St. Katherine’s docks. Her heart raced just thinking about who might have sent the letter- perhaps one of Anna Sidwell’s friends? One of Lord Castewell’s enemies?

  A friend of her father’s?

  She had been much younger when it had all happened, still being schooled by impatient governesses and relatively shielded from the world at large. She had not had even an inkling of the scandal until one morning she had awoken to the loud, wailing cry of her mother.

  Marian shivered as she remembered that day, so long ago. The cries had echoed throughout the house and though they had eventually softened the days and weeks and months that had followed had been as though walking through a slow, terrible dream.

  The dressmaker arriving to measure her for mourning clothes because it was somehow of the utmost importance to wear a particular color now that her father was dead.

  The maids draping the windows in black fabric, blocking out the weak sunlight. The mourning jewelry that had lain heavy against her skin.

  And the funeral, perhaps the worst part of the entire affair. All of the weak platitudes, and even worse, the curious eyes and probing questions.

  It hadn’t been until much later that she had learned the full scope of the rumors- that supposedly her father was having an affair with Anna Sidwell while she was being courted by Lord Castewell. That he had killed her in a jealous rage. That Lord Castewell had challenged him to duel in order to win some sort of justice for his lost love.

  The duel, she knew, had happened. All the rest she considered gossip and slander.

  Before she could fall deeper into self pity, however, the door opened behind her and her sister stepped into the room, waving an envelope about.

  “Marian there's a letter for you- it's from Mr. Scavo.” Bethany shot her a teasing look but it quickly turned to outrage when Marian moved to snatch the paper from her hand.

  “I- Marian- Really I was just going to-”

  “Give me the letter Bethy,” Marian warned, suddenly worried that her sister was going to discover her plans for the evening.

  Marian tried reaching for it but Bethany danced away, eluding her grasp.

  “Mr. Scavo has been writing you an awful lot lately,” she shot back.

  “Mr. Scavo,” Marian said, grunting as she struggled with her sister, “is my fiance, fiances write to each other- _Bethy-”_ she finally managed to grasp a corner of the envelope and pulled, hard.

  The sound of ripping filled the room and both girls watched as two pieces of the letter floated gently to rest on the floor.

  Both sisters dove for it and, though Marian was stubborn she knew a losing battle when she saw one.

  “Fine,” she grumbled, “But you aren't going to like this Bethy.”

  Her sister watched her, briefly frowning before turning to bring her half of the letter to Marian’s half.

_The Hon. Ms. Hawke,_

_I have agreed to help you, perhaps underestimating the madness inherent in this endeavor. You are not, I repeat,_ not _to come to my home tonight, nor are you to go to the docks._

_Yours Respectfully,_

_Mr. Scavo_

Bethany turned to stare at her eyes wide. “Marian- what have you become involved in?”

  Marian averted her eyes briefly before looking back to her sister, “I received a letter.”

  “A letter? From whom? Oh Marian please-”

  “Bethy, I know what I'm doing.”

  “Do you?” Bethany searched her eyes before her shoulders slumped and she looked away. “...This Mr. Scavo, you trust him enough to involve him in these things?”

  “I- He… Has agreed to assist me.”

  “Maker help me, I never thought I would see the day that someone else would- Would become involved in this.”

   Marian narrowed her eyes and then looked away again, trying to hide how her sister's words hurt her. She could argue all she wished about how she was doing this for the family, but the response was always the same: She was to bring honor back to the family by marrying well and becoming a perfect lady. Not with late-night escapades or sleuthing. And so instead what she replied was, “Mr. Scavo really is very nice. And… And Honorable.”

   "Well that's nice," Bethany said, even as she shot her a mulish expression. "I can't go with you, I know that. ...And I don't think I can stop you.” Her face softened and she placed a hand on Marian’s shoulder. “But please, please stay safe. Promise me that you will do that.”

  Privately she wondered if Mr. Scavo couldn't stop her- She’d never met the man but if Marian was willing to drag him with her on her ‘adventures’ then he had to be someone special. Her sister had told her that the engagement was fake, that it had occurred in order to save Marian’s reputation, but Bethany could not help but wonder.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” Marian said, shooting her sister a crooked smile, “I’ve never been seriously injured before.”

  “And that time you broke your arm..?” Bethany asked, her look of skepticism quickly melting into something gentler when Marian snorted and rolled her eyes. “Fine. But... If anything happens to you I won't forgive you. Or this Mr. Scavo.”

   Marian chuckled and replied, "Don't worry, I'll be much more careful now that I know I have to protect Mr. Scavo from your wrath." And then she yelled as Bethany tackled her to the ground for her sass, the sounds of their laughter echoing through the halls.

 

   Though she passed by other people occasionally Marian was frankly surprised by how empty the streets were at this time of night. Admittedly Mr. Scavo did not live in the most fashionable district of London but she still found it more than a little unnerving to walk the the avenues and lanes alone, save for the ever present fog and the occasional clip-clop of far off horse hooves.

   She was dressed as inconspicuously as possible in a plain, dark gown with a cloak thrown over it for good measure. She’d pulled her hood up over her head and hunched forward a little, fancying that she looked like nothing so much as a shadow scurrying about in the night. Thankfully it appeared that no one was eager to bother her and she felt relief crowd her chest as she turned onto the street that Mr. Scavo lived on, if the return address on his letter was to be believed. 

   Making her way up the steps to the front of Mr. Scavo’s townhome, a rather modest looking structure, she banged the front door knocker three times before standing back. Though she would never have admitted it Marian was actually rather nervous, her stomach twisted into impossibly small knots. She was nervous, anxious even, that Mr. Scavo would refuse to help her or, worse, tell her mother and Carver what she was doing. But beneath all of that thrummed excitement for the possibility that she might finally uncover more of the secrets to her father’s past.

  Lost in her thoughts as she was, she jumped a little when the door swung open to reveal a very irritated, very unhelpful looking Mr. Scavo staring at her.

  “I told you not to come,” he said, his eyes narrowing and his voice gruff.

  “I apologize for being late,” Marian replied, shooting him what she hoped to be a dazzling smile, “You know how it is, thinking you have enough time to get ready and walk to your friend’s house only to look up and, oh, look now you’re already five minutes late and-”

  “ _Ms. Hawke_ ,” the exasperation in his voice only dimmed her enthusiasm slightly, “My letter was clear-”

  Marian nodded, as if she were truly listening to him and then stepped up and through the doorway, attempting to enter. Unfortunately for her Fenris did not move.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she murmured, looking up at him from beneath her hood with wide eyes, “You must step out of the way if I am to enter your home.” Her tone suggested that this was a very simple concept and that she could not understand why Fenris was having trouble comprehending it.

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and Marian could not help but notice that he was dressed in very dark clothing. Was it for the sake of their adventure or because he merely preferred them?

  “Ms. Hawke,” he replied, “I will allow you into my home just long enough to be polite and then I am escorting you home.”

  Marian smiled up at him, a sweet thing, and with a saccharine voice said, “Mr. Scavo, you are going to be my escort to the St. Katherine Dock’s.” She batted her eyelashes but unfortunately Fenris seemed unmoved by them. “Or does a poor lady have to go by herself? And I thought you were a gentleman.”

  Fenris froze and she realized suddenly that she’d misspoken.

  “I-” She said, dropping her act, “Mr. Scavo, please, I apologize- That did not- Come out- What I meant was-”

  But before she could further apologize for inadvertently bringing up the circumstances of his birth a voice piped up from the sitting room.

  “Scavo? Is there another guest here?” A low Scottish burr preceded the form of a man as he stepped out into the hallway, one auburn eyebrow raised. He looked from Marian to Fenris and then back again, apparently trying to decide what kind of woman she was, exactly.

  “Ms. Marian Hawke,” she said, stepping forward and curtsying slightly, “I do not believe we have met- ?”

  “Sebastian Vael, Duke of Vael” he said, taking her proffered hand and inclining his head. His eyes moved back to Fenris briefly before settling on Marian again. “I am pleased to finally meet you Ms. Hawke, I have heard so much about you from Mr. Scavo.”

  “Only good things, I hope?” Marian asked, not even having to fake the hint of nervousness in her voice.

  “Of course,” Sebastian replied, “You are his fiancee, after all.”

   Marian said nothing- Obviously Fenris had not told anyone the exact details of their arrangement for which she was grateful.

  “Ms. Hawke,” Fenris finally stirred from where he had remained standing against the doorway, “My friend, His Grace, was here, visiting with me.” Which meant that if Marian truly wanted to drag Fenris with her she was either going to have to get rid of Sebastian or try to explain everything to him, neither one of which were a very palatable option.

  “But Mr. Scavo,” she said, turning at him with wide eyes as inspiration suddenly struck her, “I thought that tonight you had promised to escort me to Lady Harrington’s salon- Your presence was the only reason my mother had approved of me going, and I had so looked forward to it. But…” And here she sighed balefully, casting her eyes downward, “I, of course, understand that your friends come first. And, perhaps, I was mistaken on the day...”

  Fenris, cold-hearted man that he clearly was, just stared her. But Sebastian immediately stepped forward and said, “Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint a lady, now would we?”

  “We would,” Fenris replied.

  “We-” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him before seeming to mentally shrug and turned to Marian, giving her a charming smile. “Ms. Hawke, if the thought is not too odious to you, perhaps I can accompany both you and Mr. Scavo to this salon? I have not heard of this Lady Harrington but, as you can probably tell by my accent, I do not spent much time in London myself.”

   Well, Marian hadn’t expected that. Quickly she shot Fenris a look but he just stared at her. Oh, his lips seemed to be tugging upwards into what wanted to be a smile and something like grim satisfaction flashed in his eyes but otherwise he appeared to be quite content to watch her dig a deeper and deeper hole around herself.

 And he didn’t even have the courtesy to throw her a shovel!

  “Well, Your Grace, I appreciate the offer-” she turned back to Sebastian, giving him a smile, one that clearly said that she was regretful when Fenris finally spoke up.

  “I believe that would be an excellent plan, Vael. After all, the more the merrier, is that not right, Ms. Hawke?”

  The smile froze on Hawke’s face and she slowly turned to look back at Fenris. Thankfully Sebastian was not able to see her expression and so she was free to glare at her fiance. This time he actually did smile at her and she couldn’t decide whether to grow angrier or melt just a little.

  “But, as with His Grace, I am unfamiliar with this Lady Harrington. I am afraid that you will have to guide us to her home. Will a carriage be necessary?”

  “No,” Marian replied, “No, we should all be able to walk there.” She fidgeted slightly, looking from Fenris and to Sebastian and then back to Fenris again. What exactly did he expect her to do now? Just saunter into some random person’s home? More likely he wanted her to give up, to invent some other lie and remove herself from the situation.

  Instead of doing that however she cleared her throat she said, “I should give you gentleman a few minutes to gather your things, and then we might leave?”

  Fenris raised an eyebrow at her, apparently not having expected her to see this through. How little he knew her.

  “That would be… Yes,” he finally said. The amusement had been wiped from his face and the moment Sebastian moved away he stepped forward into the sitting room, closing the doors behind him and then moving quickly to her side.

  “Ms. Hawke,” he started, “What do you think-”

  “The more the merrier,” she replied, fisting her hands on her hips before they fell away and she sighed. “Please, Mr. Scavo- I know that this is too much to ask of you, but if there is any chance you can assist me-”

  “It is one thing when you put your reputation at risk, Ms. Hawke, and another thing entirely to put your life at risk. What do you think could happen to a woman like you, wandering the docks alone at night? Do you have any idea, the sort of men who prowl the streets there?”

  “Then come with me,” she returned, silently adding that he could also start by not patronizing her. “Make sure that I get home safely, if you are so worried.”

  Fenris stared at her, obviously wanting to argue further before he finally threw his hands up. “Fine, but this is- I cannot give you more than this.”

  Marian stared at him and then finally, slowly, nodded. “I understand Mr. Scavo. I appreciate all that you are willing to do for me, however much.”

  The look he gave her in return was strange, almost sad, and it made something inside her chest twist. It was almost as if he was genuinely worried.

  “But His Grace-” She started, “We must warn him, or at least keep him from coming along. I could not deceive your friend…” Fenris raised one eyebrow, “...Anymore than I already have.”

  “Vael is made of stronger stuff than that, believe me.”

  There was something in his words that gave Marian pause and, head cocked slightly, she asked, “Where, exactly, did you meet His Grace? He is Scottish, no?”

  Fenris paused but before he could say anything there came a polite rapping at the door to the sitting room.

  “That would be him,” Fenris murmured, and then turned away, leaving Marian standing there. Sebastian stood on the other side of the door, eyes moving between Fenris and Marian. It was clear that he was very curious about what was going on, just as it was obvious that he knew that they were not going to some salon.

  But still he turned to Marian and, giving her a friendly smile said, “Well, let us be off, shall we?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian, Sebastian and Fenris go to meet this mysterious informant...

  They moved through the streets quietly but Marian could feel the sense of confusion coming from Sebastian and- Well, she couldn’t quite interpret the stare that Fenris was no doubt pointing at her back.

  “This is an… Interesting area,” Sebastian remarked and Marian had to keep herself from groaning. “The salon we are going to is… This way?”

  “Apparently,” Fenris remarked and Marian hunched forward a little under her cloak. She couldn’t exactly say that she didn’t deserve it but it felt uncomfortable.

  Suddenly, however, she straightened up and turned to Sebastian. Perhaps if she distracted him… 

  “Your Grace, where did you and Mr. Scavo meet? He has told me little of your friendship.”

  “Has he now?” Sebastian asked, turning back to look at Fenris and raising an eyebrow. “I do not blame him, I suppose, we were wild young things back in the day.”

  “ _ You  _ were the wild young thing,” Fenris replied with a small smile.

  “Ah, yes, you were always the voice of reason. Also good with a rapier, painfully good.”

  Fenris chuckled and Marian looked back at him curiously. “What kind of adventures were you getting into that you had to worry about using rapiers?”

  “Oh, not much Ms. Hawke, truly. We actually met at boarding school- My parents had sent me to try and mellow me out.”

  Fenris did not volunteer a reason as to why he would have been sent and Marian did not ask. It was common enough for youngs boys to be sent off to school whereas girls tended to be kept at home and educated by long suffering governesses. 

  “I do have a hard time picturing Mr. Scavo as the trouble-making type,” she replied and Sebastian chuckled.

  “I was definitely the worse of us two, though Scavo does have a good head for pranks.”

  “Pranks?” Marian whipped back to look at him, both eyebrows raised and a delighted look on her face. “Mr. Scavo,” she continued, voice chiding, “You never told me about such things.”

  Fenris just sighed, however, “Such things were long ago. I am no longer the child I was.”

  “No,” Sebastian agreed, “A shame. I still fondly recall that time you switched the schoolmaster’s wig powder for-”

  “Ms. Hawke,” Fenris hastily interrupted Sebastian, “Are we any closer to our destination?”

  Marian blinked and looked around, unsure. “Is this the St. Katherine Docks?”

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow but nodded his head, “This is fairly close, anyway- Ms. Hawke, why would you-”

  Marian stepped forward, her heels clicking against the cobblestone streets as she turned around, searching for the person who had sent her the letter. It was dark at this time of the night and she shivered slightly, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that Fenris and Sebastian, knowingly or not, had agreed to accompany her here. She couldn’t imagine walking here alone, even as brave as she was, in order to meet some mysterious-

  She turned slightly and saw the form of a large man standing in a doorway. He looked up as if feeling her gaze and cocked his head to the side. Marian swallowed heavily but still moved forward, the letter burning in her pocket. Behind her the voices of Fenris and Sebastian were fading slightly as she moved on without them, drawn towards the man.

  He was rougher looking than she might have expected from a friend of her father’s or someone else who had been associated with Anna Sidwell but perhaps he had merely fallen on hard times and-

  “You Hawke?” The man asked, his accent heavy.

  “Yes,” she replied, “You sent the letter-” He moved and she saw something flash brightly in the thin moonlight. The man stepped forward, moving more quickly than she could have rightfully expected from a man of his size and suddenly Marian found a knife being leveled at her face. 

  She grew very still, for a moment her entire attention narrowed on the weapon in front of her. Distantly she felt her knees lock, felt the blood rush from her face, cold perspiration breaking out on the back of her neck. And yet all she could think about was the knife and then the man behind it.

  “I don’t want to hurt you-” He started, “I was just told to scare you a little, make you stop-”

  “Stop what?” Her heart was pounding in her chest and she’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t terrified of the blade that remained in front of her. But she had to know- She was determined to see this through. Without tearing her gaze away from the dagger she asked, “Stop me from learning about Anna Sidwell? Who are you?”

   “Ms. Hawke?” She had almost forgotten that Fenris and Sebastian were with her but it was obvious that they were quickly making their way towards her. The man holding the knife in front of her froze as suddenly two men appeared in the gloom of the street, one of them holding two daggers and the other holding a cane sword. 

  “I- There was only supposed to be a woman-” The knife in front of her faced wavered slightly, and then the man turned to flee.

   Marian stood there for a single moment and then without thought broken into a run to pursue him. 

  “Ms-” Fenris had felt his heart shudder to a halt as the man had stepped out to meet Marian, obviously not realizing he or Sebastian were there. And then, when he had pulled a knife on her-

  And now she was chasing the man, her skirts whipping around her legs as she flew across the cobblestones, no care for her own safety or what would happen if she managed to catch up to him.

  He felt the fear for her as a physical thing, felt it threaten to choke him. He was only a short distance behind her, his cane sword low at his side, but if the other man decided to turn around, decided to fight back-

  “ _ Marian! _ ” He barely recognized the voice as his own, desperate as he was just to get her attention.

  Marian pulled up slightly at the sound of her name. She might have stopped when suddenly the sound of two set of booted feet grew much closer behind her and Sebastian, still running, moved to her side.

  “Stop, brigand,” the authority in his voice, or perhaps exhaustion on the part of the would-be attacker, stopping the man finally.

  He stumbled a little, turning back to face the trio, and dropped his knife before shakily raising his hands.

  “P-please sirs, my lady- I swear I wasn’t going to hurt you, just- Shake you up was all they said-”

  “ _ Who  _ said that?” Fenris snarled, stepping forward, his cane sword brandished before him. It stopped just short of the other man’s neck and Marian suddenly felt herself growing light headed.

  “Mr. Scavo-”

  “Some, I don’t know, blond lady- She was definitely a Woman of Quality, you know, one of those real lady types- but she didn’t give me a name and- Please, sir-”

  “Scavo,” Sebastian stepped forward slightly, looking at Fenris, “Believe me, I understand your rage, but you cannot kill this man.”

  The man turned even more pale than he already was and quailed slightly, “Please, sirs, I don’t have much money but-”

  “I do not care about  _ money _ ,” Fenris said, “You think you can put a knife to her throat and just-”

  Marian swallowed heavily, and then she stepped forward and put a hand on Fenris’ shoulder, her voice soft. “Mr. Scavo, I appreciate your concern and your quick defense of me, but I am unharmed. Please, lower your sword.”

  He did not turn back to look at her, his entire focus still on the man in front of them, but the set of his shoulders seemed to relax beneath her hand and he lowered his sword until the tip of it finally came to rest on the ground before them.

  Marian’s mind swirled with questions about Fenris and Sebastian, both about why they had apparently been so well armed and how it was that they were so comfortable with their weapons. But all of that paled with her questions for the man in front of them.

  “You said she was a blond woman-” Marian asked, turning her attention back to the man, “What of her eye color? Did she have any other defining characteristics?”

  “I- I dunno, it was dark as pitch and her eyes- Maybe blue, maybe grey, I dunno- She handed me some money, told me to go to the St. Katherine Docks and she gave me… Your description. Said you were going to meet her husband there, that you were his mistress you see, and that she needed me to scare you off-”

  “ _What?_ ” Marian wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shout in indignation. “I’m not- That’s not-”

  “So he’s just as much a fool in this. Clearly the one that we are truly looking for is the blond woman,” Sebastian remarked, rather calmly given the situation Marian thought.

  “You are correct, Vael, only a fool would expect to walk away with just-” Fenris started, only for Marian to shake her head.

  “No- That’s not-” She sputtered and then turned back to the man, “Go, before my-” She colored a little, “Before we decide to call the constable on you.”

  The man did not even nod his assent before turning and fleeing into the night, the sound of his footfalls quickly fading as he disappeared into the distance.

  “So,” Sebastian finally said into the silence that followed, “I take it we were not going to a salon.”

  Instantly Marian felt shame washed over her as she realized what she had dragged not only Fenris but his friend Sebastian into. 

  “N-No,” she admitted, “I- You see-” Finally she sighed, hanging her head. “There is no excuse I can give you, Your Grace. I deceived you, and put your life at risk, both of which I am terribly sorry for.” As she spoke she felt Fenris placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly.

  “Well,” Sebastian responded, “It’s not how I expected to spend the night. But I was told that London was full of adventure.”

  “Vael-” Fenris started, his voice a deep growl, “Ms. Hawke has suffered a terrifying experience and I do not think she appreciates your jest-” Only to be interrupted by the sound of Marian giggling, which quickly turned to loud peals of laughter as she doubled over. A little stunned Fenris turned to stare at her, eye wides. 

  “I’m-” She gasped, “I apologize, I merely- I don’t know why that is so-” She finally managed to get herself under control, standing up again in order to look back at the two gentlemen who were both looking at her, Fenris a little warily and Sebastian amused. “We should… Return to Mr. Scavo’s house, yes?” Now that the urge to laugh hysterically had left her Marian suddenly realized how exhausted she felt. If it wouldn’t have been inappropriate and just a little awkward she might have asked Fenris to carry her back but as it was she just looked at him, hoping he wouldn’t turn her away.

  “We should do as Ms. Hawke suggests,” Fenris said, still eying her before finally turning away and nodding decisively. “And,” he started, voice turning grim, “I am sure you have questions, Vael.”

 

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Marian murmured as Sebastian handed her a cup of tea. She gently blew on it and then took a sip, closing her eyes at the feeling of it. They were all in Fenris’ parlor and while she and Sebastian had both taken the first chance to sit down and have a cup of soothing tea Fenris had taken to pacing in front of the fireplace.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, trying to break him from his mood, “Please sit down and have a cup of tea.”

  “I am not thirsty,” he replied absently, his attention remaining wholly on pacing, pacing, pacing.

  Striving for patience, however, Marian said: “Perhaps just sitting down then. It’s been an… Exciting evening. I sure you would like to rest.”

  He frowned, briefly looking back at her before quickly looking away again. “I do feel particularly fatigued, either.”

  Marian just stared at him before quietly sighing and turning away. He had every right to be upset with her, she reminded herself. Sebastian did as well, though, oddly enough, he didn’t seem to be.

  “Ms. Hawke,” he finally said, voice gentle, “Why  _ were  _ you intending to meet with that man?”

  Marian flicked a glance at Fenris but he seemed entirely uninterested in helping her tell the  story. Instead he had stopped pacing but was now staring into the fire with what looked like every fibre of his being.

  “I do not know how much of London gossip you are aware of, Your Grace,” she started slowly.

  “Very little, though perhaps that is for the best.”

  Marian sighed, “Well I- That is-” She looked away, gathering herself for a moment before continuing, very softly, “My father… Was killed in a duel when I was younger.”

  “My condolences, Ms. Hawke. I know how difficult it is to lose a parent.”

  “Thank you, but unfortunately that is not the end of the tale.” She grimaced and then began to retell the tale of her father’s death, followed by the accusations and her own investigations and where they had led her to. She also mentioned that Fenris had agreed to help her but not that their engagement was false. Though she felt guilty for it she wished to save Fenris the embarrassment.

  “...And then I received a letter this morning- It claimed to be from someone who knew my father, who said they could tell me the truth. I… I should have known better than to follow what was such obvious bait. It was merely that I- I needed to know the truth. No matter the cost.”

  Sebastian watched her and when she looked back up at him, her eyes shining, his own gaze was soft.

  “Short-sighted though he may have been,” he said, “I do not think anyone could have blamed you. It is difficult to have closure, in such a case. I do not know you very well, Ms. Hawke, but I am sympathetic to your plight. I you have any need of me while I am in London please do not hesitate to call upon me.”

  Marian sat, stunned by the generous offer. Finally finding the words she said, “Oh, thank you, Your Grace, that is- Thank you.”

  He gave her a smile and then nodded, “You are most welcome, Ms. Hawke. And now, I fear, I must take my leave- It has been a long night.”

  “Indeed,” Fenris said, still not looking up. His hand curled around the mantle, fingers pressing hard against the marble. 

  Sebastian paused for a moment after standing, looking at Fenris, before inclining his head and then exiting the parlor, closing the door softly behind him.

  An almost deathly silence fell upon the room then, Marian sitting stiff-backed in her chair and Fenris remaining at the fire. His emotions swirled within him like a storm, one that he was having a hard time getting a hold of.

  Finally he spoke into the silence: “I believe, Ms. Hawke, that it is past time that we had a chat.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor interrupts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all so much for the lovely comments. I know I say that with every chapter but I never stop appreciating them, especially when I fail at updating this regularly. :p
> 
> For historical context, it was not uncommon for people to marry their cousins or other relatives and marriages among the aristocracy were particularly prone to this type of thing. Especially when the pool of "appropriate" marriage partners is so small, it quickly becomes impossible to find someone who is not, in some way, related to you. (For one of the more horrifying examples of this I invite you to look at the family tree of Charles II of Spain.) Thus, this is why everyone takes what happens a little bit later in the chapter as relatively normal. 
> 
> Also, this chapter marks the beginning of some angst. I promise that this will have a happy ending because I'm a sucker for them, but wanted to forewarn everyone.

  “About the weather? The latest horse racing? I never took you for an equestrian but I do know how you gentlemen love your horses-”

  “Ms. Hawke,” the disapproval in his voice was heavy and Marian quieted. Lowering her head she looked down at her hands, fiddling with her gloves. “I agreed to assist you when I thought that this only involved parsing through letters. I did not…” He sighed and Marian felt her heart clench, “I did not anticipate this madness. This violence.”

  “No one was injured, truly,” she replied, finally standing up from her chair in order to turn and look at him. But Fenris just remained as he was, hand gripping the mantle and eyes locked on the fire instead of looking at her. “I am- More sorry than you can imagine that I involved you and His Grace, but, please, I never intended-”

  “This is not about your intentions,” he said, “This is about…”

  “About what, Mr. Scavo?” Marian asked with he trailed off without speaking further and watched his jaw work as he struggled for words. 

  “Do you know what it was like, seeing that- That thug pull a knife on you? I was not more than a few steps behind you and yet I was completely incapable of protecting you.” He was still reliving those long, terrifying moments in his head, his brain occasionally supplying a more gruesome ending than what had occurred. 

  “I understand,” Marian said, slowly moving closer to him, her voice gentle. “But, really, I’m quite alright. Nothing happened.” When Fenris finally turned to look at her, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness of the room she gave him a small, hopeful smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Scavo, you can’t shake me that easily.”

  But instead of laughing he said, his voice hoarse with emotion: “I could have lost you.” 

  Images moved through his head of Marian, her throat slashed open in a crimson smile. Her body lying pale and lifeless in his arms, him unable to do anything to help her.

  “But you didn’t,” her voice was a whisper and she very gently raised her hand to place it against his cheek. “Believe me, I wasn’t any more thrilled about having such a sharp knife near my person than you were. But I’m… I’ll be fine.”

  He moved his hands up to her shoulders, squeezing them gently, “You must be more careful. Please, promise me Marian.”

  She blinked, wondering if he even realized that he had used her first name. She had heard it yelled, distantly, when she had begun to pursue her would-be attacker at the docks and it was only at that moment that she connected it to Fenris.

  “I will try,” she said, searching his face. He looked so concerned for her, his green eyes so deeply worried. 

  Fenris wanted to say more, wanted to tell her that trying was not enough. That her ‘trying’ was going to keep him up at night, pulling at his hair but he said nothing. He did not know the words to convince her to be safer, to truly express the fear he still felt even hours after what had occurred.  

  “Please don’t worry so much, Fenris, you’ll turn your hair white.” She was smiling softly at him again, as if she hadn’t just used his first name so casually. As if they were not alone in this room, dark save for the fire beside them. As if he did not so badly want her, the way he had wanted her since that first night, in Lady Castewell’s office.

  She was, perhaps, not traditionally pretty. But she was kind and funny and far braver than any other woman that he knew. She called to him, in a way that he had not felt for any other woman before her.

  Slowly he lowered his head, watching as Marian blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly. She moved up then, meeting him halfway, her arms rising to wind themselves around his neck as their lips touched.

  There was no jumping apart then, no hurried apologies or blushing. No, there was a little bit of blushing, perhaps, but as Marian pressed herself against him all Fenris could do was to deepen the kiss, to pull her more tightly against himself. It was intoxicating, the small noises she made, the way her hands bunched and then relaxed against the back of his neck.

  He thought that they might have done this forever, kissing and lazily exploring each other’s mouths. Her body remained a solid weight against his, the scent from her hair wrapping around him and making him feel light-headed.

  And then they were moving back away from the fire and towards one of the couches in the room. Marian briefly disengaged to look up at him, her eyes glazed over slightly and her mouth wet looking.

  “Fenris,” she said, but seemed at a loss beyond that. Instead she sat down on the couch, her gaze never straying from him and took his hand, pulling him towards her.

  He felt his heart begin to beat in over time as he followed her down, found himself lying over her, caging her with his own body. They were close, closer than he’d ever been with another person and for a brief moment they both relished in the feel of it, just lying against one another.

  This engagement, he reminded himself, was fake. They were just friends- There were no real feelings between them, not truly.

  And yet, when he thought of that knife, of watching Marian stare it down…

  When he leaned down this time to kiss her he was no longer so gentle and Marian responded by arching up against him, tangling one of her hands in his hair. It was impossible and yet he swore he could hear the beat of her heart, could hear her murmuring something.

  “Fenris-” he leaned down to hear her better, she was saying something but he couldn’t-

  Suddenly he heard the sound of the front door slamming open and a very loud voice calling out:

  “Fenris!”

  The change in him was immediate, his entire body going rigid. That voice, that wretched voice-

  “Who in the world in that?” Marian asked, her voice still a little husky. All Fenris wished to do was to bury his face in the crook of her neck, to ignore the terrible thing on the other side of the door.

  “Fen _ RIS _ !” The voice cried again, the slur at the end indicating that the speaker was drunk, although Fenris had already assumed as much. Still, perhaps if they remained very quiet and the speaker would decide to leave them be. Perhaps, he could avoid this confrontation, could keep Marian from meeting the rest of his family.

  And then he heard the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet heading straight for the room that they were in. 

  Without thought he leapt off the couch and pulled Marian up, hastily pushing her behind him just as the knob turned and the door swung open.

  “Fen-  _ Oh _ , my dear, darling cousin- There you are-” 

  Fenris felt his heart sink as his cousin, Hadriana, stepped through the door. She was heavily intoxicated and while that usually turned her cruel she appeared to be in a good mood tonight. He cast a glance back at Marian, silently pleading with her not to say anything. If he could just get her out of his home before Hadriana did anything…

  “Good evening cousin,” he said, trying to keep his voice smooth and uninflected, “I did not know that you and Uncle were in town.”

  “We saw you!” She stated, beginning to move forward before she stumbled back slightly, gripping the doorknob for support. Fenris swallowed heavily, watching her, waiting. “At the- The party.” She scrunched up her nose, distorting her otherwise lovely face. “With another- Woman.  _ I’ve  _ heard that you’ve been engaged. Surely that’s not true?”

  It suddenly occurred to Fenris that Hadriana had not realized that Marian was standing behind him. He wasn’t much taller than her but apparently it was enough to hide her. That, and his cousin’s drunkeness was no doubt helping.

  “Fen _ ris _ ,” she said, blinking wide eyes at him. His stomach churned unpleasantly, thinking of all of the times those eyes had been narrowed at him in anger, all of the times they had glared and cut at him. “You  _ promised _ me.”

  There was a sharp inhale of breath behind him and Fenris closed his eyes in resignation.

  He thought of the moments just before this, when he had lain against Marian. When he had forgotten about his cruel cousin and his scheming uncle. 

  “Fenris,” Hadriana seemed to be trying to blink the bleariness away from her eyes as she looked around him. “What-”

  Marian stepped out from behind him, her chin held high.

  “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier,” she said, voice smooth like glass, “I am Ms. Marian Hawke. I was the woman who attended that ball with Mr. Scavo.” The fact that she did not identify herself as his fiancee was all the more concerning. 

  If Marian was feeling anything at all Fenris could not tell. The thought that she might not be was, by far, more terrifying than her being angry or aggrieved. 

  Hadriana swung towards her in that ungainly gait that only the very drunk and toddlers seemed able to affect, her eyes narrowed. 

  “You- I have heard of you Hawkes. Your brother is the- The Viscount.”

  “Yes,” Marian replied, “He is.”

  Hadriana narrowed her eyes further before finally seeming to decide that Marian Hawke was not worth her time. Instead she looked back at Fenris and said, “Dear Cousin, may we speak- Privately?”

  Fenris wanted to deny her, but he knew that it was pointless. Hadriana would corner him sooner rather than later. It was better to get the matter done and over with.

  “Ms. Hawke,” he said, turning to look at her for the first time since his cousin had burst into the room. “If you would give me but a moment.”

  Marian stared back at him, her expression guarded but finally nodded. “Of course, Mr. Scavo.” He tone was all that was professional, such a stark contrast to the huskiness of her voice earlier. He felt his stomach grow leaden but turned back to Hadriana.

  “To the sitting room-” He paused, forcing himself to say the next few words, “-Dear Cousin?”

  “Yes,” she said, shooting him a smile that appeared warm but that he knew was all for show. She held out one arm and Fenris approached her, taking it in order to lead her away. His cousin gripped his arm tightly, her fingernails digging through the fabric of his coat jacket and the linen shirt that he wore beneath.

  He did not look behind him for Marian’s expression but he did not need to- He could feel her stare, boring into his back, with every step that he took away from her.

  Although it was not in Marian Hawke’s nature to spy, given the implications of what Hadriana had said she felt herself more than justified. She hated herself for it, but could not help but think back to the night that she had first spotted Fenris’ uncle and cousin in that ballroom. He had seemed genuinely distressed by their presence and she now realized, with a sick twist of her heart, that it was not because of anything they had done to them.

  No, Mr. Scavo had likely herded her away to prevent the sort of confrontation that had just occurred. Bitterly Marian wondered if he was happy that he had managed to keep it private.

  Carefully she creeped through the hallways, shoulders hunched and ears straining for any snippet of conversation. Her heart was twisted in pain, her eyes sore, but she refused to give into any wailing.

  At least, not until she had heard everything and then run home to cry in Bethany or Merrill’s arms.

  Mr. Scavo had told Hadriana that they would have their discussion in one of the sitting rooms and as Marian sidled up to a set of closed doors she realized she could hear voices coming from beyond them faintly. Frowning she crouched in front of it, placing her eye just before the keyhole and attempting to look in. Her view was limited but she was able to see both Fenris and his cousin, if not the rest of the room. 

  On a couch sat Fenris, holding his head in his hands and resolutely not looking at his cousin who seemed as though she were trying to pace. Unfortunately she was still drunk enough that it was mostly staggering and Marian cringed as her heeled feet clomped around heavily. But she had heard very little about Hardiana Scavo and, given that she seemed to be the injured party in this scenario, she was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “I don’t understand what happened Fenris,” Hadriana said and Marian watched as Fenris’ shoulders hunched forward even more. Was he genuinely contrite, she wondered, or simply playing the part?

  “I made you no promises of marriage Hadriana, you know this.”

  “We had an  _ understanding _ .”

  “One that was imagined on you and your father’s part,” he snarled and Marian nearly jumped back, not having been prepared for such ferocity. Uneasily she began to wonder if there was something else at play here and, although her heart still ached, she warily looked back at Hadriana. The woman was scowling at Fenris, her arms crossed over her chest. 

  Was that the expression of a woman whose heart had been broken? But then Marian remembered her own reaction earlier and decided to keep watching.

  “Little Fen,” and suddenly Hadrian’s voice was saccharine. Marian watched, partly fascinated and partly mystified, as Fenris bowed his head again, only for these feelings to grow into horror as his cousin slowly stepped to his side.

  She grasped his chin, tilting his head up and forcing him to look at her as she spoke, ever so quietly. Marian pressed her ear against the keyhole, straining to listen to the words. There were fragments she could hear, but nothing coherent and trying so hard to hear was just making her head ache. Finally she gave up and turned her head back in order to watch, just as Hadriana leaned down to place herself level with Fenris.

  And then Marian watched as the woman pressed her lips against Fenris’. 

  Those lips that had touched hers earlier. That had whispered such sweet things to her. That have spoken her name.

  Marian scrambled up suddenly, uncaring of the noise or the fact that both Fenris and his cousin now likely knew that she had seen them. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, clearly. Not her spying or her feelings or her heart which hurt so  _ badly _ .

  She sprinted for the door, bursting out of it much as Hadriana had earlier, tears streaming down her face. Though she attempted to wipe them away with furious swipes of her arm she eventually gave up, sobbing and gasping as she ran home. The cobblestones beneath her feet were hard, unforgiving and by the time she finally made it to the front door of the Hawke estate her feet ached, her thighs burning. 

  Partially collapsing against it she took a moment to try and compose herself, dragging deep, ragged breaths of air into her lungs. They hurt too, everything hurt right now, and when she realized this she finally allowed herself to sit down on the front steps to her home. Folding her arms on her knees she buried her face into them, allowing herself to cry.

  It was not long, however, before she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and when she looked up it was to see Merrill standing before her, her eyes wide and concerned looking. 

  “Merrill-” Marian started, more than a little confused as to what she was doing, coming to her home in the early hours of the morning and how she had managed to escape her home. “What-”

  “It’s alright Marian- Why don’t we get you inside and get you a nice cup of tea? Then we can talk.”

**Marian was usually not one to take instructions so easily and when she finally nodded in acquiescence Merrill’s look of worry deepened. But when her friend turned her tear-streaked face back up at her Merrill just smiled sadly and took her hand in order to lead her inside. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologize that this took me so long to get out. Real life has been kind of rough and making me not want to write, but I really appreciate all of the kind comments and hope you guys enjoy this chapter. There's not much going on but there is a lot of moping, as well as what Hadriana said to Hawke that she couldn't hear.

She sat ensconced with Merrill on one side of her and Bethany on the other, a warm cup of tea in her hands and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. They were all huddled together on the plush settee in her room, the only light coming from a few wavering candles that Merrill had lit. Though the clock in the front hallway had read four past midnight neither woman seemed to mind sitting up with her, listening as she related all that had happened. 

  When she was done she took a long sip of her tea and sniffled slightly. Under any other circumstances she would have felt warm and comforted, covered in blankets as she was. But she only felt empty and tired, the events of the night finally catching up to her.

  “I thought he was a good man,” she murmured, more to her tea than her two companions. “I was so  _ stupid _ .”

  Merrill and Bethany looked at each other over Marian, both wearing matching expressions of concern. Both had feared the worst when Marian had come back sobbing but while this wasn’t quite that it was very close. Their sister and friend was heartbroken, and neither of them had ever wanted to see that. 

  Bethany turned back to her sister and squeezed her hand while Merrill rubbed her back and then spoke.

  “Perhaps you misunderstood,” Merrill said softly, “Perhaps-”

   Marian shook her head, “He said that it was a promise of marriage- Well- He said that he had made no promises of marriage but- That was clearly what they were discussing.”

  Bethany hummed thoughtfully beside Marian, “I have heard little of his cousin but perhaps she was the one who was lying. So far Mr. Scavo has proven himself very trustworthy- For him to be lying about this...”

  “But why would she?” Marian asked, “She didn't even know I was in the room when she said that. What does she have to gain?” 

  “Mr. Scavo gains access to his fortune when he marries, isn’t that what Mother said?” Bethany asked.

   Marian sniffled again, looking up at Bethany, “That’s- But that would mean-” She shook her head, “I’m sure the rest of his family doesn’t need it. Certainly that’s not why his cousin would have- Have said those things.”

  Merrill and Bethany exchanged glances once again. Though Marian was not naive she was hurting, and they both knew it was likely difficult for her to see beyond her own pain, the sense that Fenris had betrayed and lied to her.

  “You should at least speak with him,” Merrill said, “Ask him to explain, perhaps, what happened.” 

  “But how can I trust him? How can I be with him when I have- Have such doubt in my heart?” Marian shook her head, “Even if he told me that his cousin was lying I don’t know…”

  “But you have trusted him this far, haven't you?” Bethany asked, “He's helped you- And well, I-”

  Marian looked at her when she paused, eyebrows slanted down in confusion. “Well, what?”

  Bethany sighed, a mixture of wistfulness and sympathy coloring it. “I… Have seen the way he looks at you. When you are not aware. He is devoted to you, or seems to be.”

  Marian felt her heart sink- Neither her nor Fenris had told anyone that their engagement was false. Bethany, and Merrill for that matter, had no reason to think it was anything but genuine.

  Unbidden her mind circled back to the moments before Fenris’ cousin had interrupted them. The way he had felt against her, the pressure of his lips against her neck.

  The engagement was false. And those touches were- Marian hunched forward again, pressing her forehead against her knees. Her gut twisted and roiled, confusion and despair and heartbreak grappling with each other inside her.

  “You're wrong,” she finally mumbled, “It’s not- It's not the way it seems.”

  She could almost feel Bethany’s frown, could see her opening her mouth to argue and had to bite her lip from smiling. For all that she was the little sister she had no qualms about bickering with her when she thought she was right.

  But instead her sister just sighed, apparently taking pity on Marian. “...Fine.”

  Silence descended then, the three women remaining there, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Though the candles made little noise their flickering sent shadows skittering through the room and the women moved instinctively closer to one another. 

  Finally Marian lifted her head up in order to look at Merrill. She was dressed casually and wore thick boots on her feet, the kind that Marian only saw her use when she intended to go out. Her pelisse was old and comfortable looking but a pretty green color that Merrill usually wore when she was going to see someone.

  Squinting a little, her eyes were sore from all of the crying she had done, she asked, “Merrill, why again are-” only to be quickly interrupted by Bethany.

  “Ah, Merrill, come down and help me get some tea started, would you? I think that would help everyone.”

  Merrill quickly nodded and Marian did not miss the look of relief that passed over her face. Still she said nothing, only watched gloomily as Bethany stood up and took Merrill’s hand so as to tug her along with her.

  “We’ll be back up with tea,” Bethany promised, squeezing her sisters shoulder and looking down at her with wide, sad brown eyes.

  “And biscuits?” Marian asked, a hopeful note to her voice. Bethany smiled, though her eyes remained sad.

  “Of course, the lemon ones, right?” It’d been an ongoing joke since childhood, her love of all things lemon flavored, but tonight she had needed something warm and familiar. Something she could trust, she supposed.

  “Yes, thank you Bethy,” Marian said as she nodded. When Bethany and Merrill left the room she moved her head back down onto her knees, letting out a soft sigh. Her eyes were red and puffy but at the moment she didn’t particularly feel like crying, which was a miracle in and of itself.

  Her not-real fiancee had betrayed her, her best friend had some mystery she didn't care to divulge and her younger sister now looked at her with pity. But at least, she thought, there would be lemon biscuits.

  
  


  “I will never marry you,” he snarled from his spot on the couch, nearly shaking with contained fury. “There is no way you can force me.”

  Hadriana had sobered considerably since Marian had fled from his home and it had done nothing to improve her mood. Quite the opposite, in fact. Currently she was staring Fenris down with a gaze that would have frozen lesser men solid, her blue eyes glinting like little shards of ice.

  “Watch your tongue, bastard,” she replied, lounging in one of the chairs opposite to Fenris. Though the way she sat, her head propped up on one fist, was casual nothing about her voice or expression was.

  “My parents married, I am a legal son,” he returned, his voice tight with anger.

  She snorted, her lips quirked up in cruel amusement, “Years after you were born.” She waggled her finger at him and chided, “And that makes you a bastard. B. A. S-”

  “Then marry someone who meets your qualifications for-” his lips curled downward in a sneer as his voice dropped, “pure blood.”

  “Believe me,” she said, mouth turned down into a ferocious frown, “If father wasn't pushing me so hard I would have nothing to do with you.”

  Fenris’ eyes narrowed. “I am not the only gentleman in London with a fortune.”

  “No,” Hadriana said, “Pity Father doesn’t understand that.” She rolled her eyes and flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture, as if Fenris were not simmering with rage a few feet away from her. “Besides,” she said, looking back at Fenris, her cold blue eyes glittering, “Do you really think that your lady will want anything to do with you now?”

  Fenris continued to stare at her, trying to hide how her words affected him. 

  “Not to mention the family she would be marrying into-” She let out a harsh, bark of a laugh and Fenris had to fight not to flinch away from it. “What were you thinking, dallying with someone like her?” Hadriana leaned forward, lips pulled back in a cruel smirk. “She would have had to meet Father someday, or were you forgetting that?”

  Ever since he had been left in the care of his uncle as a young boy he had dreamt of escaping his cruel grasp and that of his cousin’s. He had almost begun to believe that he had succeeded, when the two of them had followed him to London. 

  He felt, in that moment, doomed. Doomed to forever live under the thumb of his relatives, to be forced to give up his chance at happiness. He would marry Hadriana, would have to sit across from her and his uncle every day of the rest of his life. They would take his fortune, do with it as they pleased, and there would be no escape. No freedom.

  Feeling desperate he said, “I promised her. It would ruin her, were I to break off the engagement.”

  “But no contracts have been drawn up?” 

  “There is more to this world than money,” Fenris returned, eyes hard. But Hadriana was already smirking again.

  “So this is a verbal contract- Easy enough to break.” She gave a dainty shrug as if to emphasize her point.

  “You have not been out of society for so long that you truly think that.” Finally his blow seemed to land and he watched as her finely painted mouth twisted into a grimace. 

  “Well, we’ve come to London now. And I imagine we will be seeing each other much more regularly,  _ cousin _ .” It was both a promise, and a threat.

  “And…” Fenris tried to keep his gaze impassive, not to betray the way his heart thudded unpleasantly. “Your father? He also intends to stay in town?” 

  Hadriana watched him and he felt a drop of sweat, beginning at the nape of his neck, slowly sliding down his skin. It was like nails, unpleasantly scraping against the tender flesh, making him want to fidget and twist away.

  “Of course,” she finally said, “Perhaps he will wish to visit you. He tells me all of the time how he misses you.”

  Fenris swallowed heavily but he did not tear his eyes away from Hadriana. He had done it enough as a child and refused to give her more than he had to. 

  “I am a very busy man,” he said finally, “And am rarely at home.”

  “London is not very large, when we move in the circles that we do. I imagine we will see you again.”  _ Whether you like it or not _ , went unspoken but Fenris understood it all the same. 

  “Perhaps,” he replied. Silence descended then as he and Hadriana stared at each other, as if watching to see who would break first. Finally she looked away, making a small noise of disgust.

  “I must be going, Father will be expecting me back.” She rose, steadier than she had been earlier though Fenris could tell that she still had a good amount of alcohol in her. She made her way to the door but stopped before leaving, turning her head back to Fenris.

  “Remember what you are,” she said, her lips curled down into a disapproving grimace, “And remember what she is.” With that she straightened and then walked away, leaving Fenris alone in the sitting room, hunched over. 

  Distantly the front door slammed. Though a lady Hadriana had never been particularly gentle, especially when she drunk or high on emotion. It was jarring, but the empty silence that followed was somehow worse.

  His mind replayed the night again and again in a torturous loop. The feeling of Marian beneath him. Hadriana’s words when she had first gotten him alone.

  “ _You are a bastard,”_ she had said to him, moving to step in front of him. He generally disliked other people standing close to him but there was only one person whose presence he despised more than Hadriana’s. 

_ “She does not truly want you, cannot truly want you. A lady might look to you for a dalliance but never for anything more, never for anything  _ real _.”  _ Fenris had thought it often enough to himself and to have the words spoken to him had confirmed all of his worst fears.

  She had grasped his chin then, tilting his head upwards. Though he wanted to glare, wanted to spit at her all that he had felt in that moment was the inescapable truth that she was right. Marian had told him as much, when they had first begun this. This wasn’t real, and whatever feelings she might have for him mattered little in the face of honor and duty. When she discovered the truth she would leave him, Fenris knew. He had simply not wished to recognize that.

_ “We are bound to each other, you and I,”  _ her face had curled into a sneer and her grasp on his chin had almost tightened enough to hurt. 

  And then she had leaned down and kissed him.

  They had both heard a gasp, a cry of pain and then the sound of someone quickly running away. Both knew that there was only one person to whom those noises might have belonged to and if there had been any hope inside of Fenris, any at all, it had died with that knowledge.

  Though enraged at Hadriana he was even angrier with himself. For not pulling away, and for breaking Marian’s heart.

  He rubbed at his temples, bringing himself back into the present. Though his instinct was to go to her he resisted.

  There was little he could do to correct this and he knew, in his heart, that she would not want him in any case.

  Instead Fenris stayed where he was, alone in his sitting room. The only other noises were the sounds of the empty house as it creaked mournfully around him and then, finally, settled into complete silence.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes (some of which sort of belonged in the last chapter lmao):
> 
> -An engagement was actually a pretty serious issue in Regency England, especially amongst the upper class and was often treated more as a business contract than a personal one. Which does make sense when large tracts of land and wealth were at stake and might change hands depending on who married whom. A broken engagement also carried pretty serious social repercussions for a woman's reputation- as well as the man's actually. (His honor was often called into question, though not quite in the same way a woman's might have been.) Thus the talk of 'contracts' in the last chapter and in upcoming ones.
> 
> -A stone equals fourteen pounds
> 
> -If it isn't obvious, one of my favorite Hawke headcanons is that they're painfully oblivious at times.

  Though they had not decorated the house for mourning there was a general air of it hanging about the Hawke estate. During the day Marian remained holed up in her rooms and at night she wandered the hallways like a specter out of some Gothic novel, kept awake by thoughts and regrets as she tred the long, plush carpets of her home.

  Both Bethany and Merrill tried their best to convince her to return to the world of the living but nothing seemed to help. Nor did Carver’s promise that he would see her given satisfaction. Even her mother, who Marian had expected to pressure her to try and stay with Mr. Scavo if only to save her reputation, was unfailingly kind and sensitive to her daughter’s heartache.

  In truth it was all a little too much for Marian to bear. She had rarely suffered from the melancholy that seemed to plague so many of her peers and frankly all of the attention, all of the  _ coddling _ , felt more suffocating than comforting.

  To try and distract herself she once again immersed herself in the letters she had stolen from Lady Castewell’s study. But every time she opened a new envelope, parsing over the curling letters, she was reminded of her time spent with Mr. Scavo, trying to unravel the mystery of Anna Sidwell’s death.

  She would sit in the library and it was as if a ghost sat across from her, cracking wry jokes and smiling softly at her. Looking at her with those eyes that were a strange mixture of cynical and playful.

  A part of her wanted, desperately, to believe that this was all some great misunderstanding like in one those cheap, penny novels that her sister was always reading. That Mr. Scavo had some genuine affection for her. That there was some reason he had been forced to be with his cousin, some obstacle that she might help him overcome.

  But then her mind’s eye would replay that kiss, that wretched moment when Hadriana had leant down to press he lips against Mr. Scavo’s and Marian would feel bile climb up the back of her throat all over again, extinguishing any hope she might have entertained of such a possibility.

  She was in such a mood again when Bethany climbed the stairs up to her room in order to beg her to join her at a ball a close friend of their mother’s was throwing. Though everyone in the household had suffered her depression well they were all eager to find any way to cheer her up. And while Marian had never been one for soirees or parties Bethany was desperate just to get her out of the house.

  Bethany knocked on the door and then entered without waiting for her sister to respond, marching over to where Marian sat hunched over her desk, scribbling something.

  “Marian-” She started, biting back a sigh when her sister just curled up more. “Marian, there is a soiree tonight and I need you to go with me.” There- Marian would never resist her duty as an elder sister.

  “Take Carver with you,” she grunted, causing Bethany to frown and fold her arms over her chest.

  “I don’t want to go with him. You know how he is.” She sniffed and then muttered, “How I am supposed to find a husband when he’s always standing at my back scaring them all off is beyond me.”

  “And I’m much better?” Marian turned around and for the first time in what seemed like a very long time the expression she wore was humorous, if not a little wan. She wasn’t smiling, exactly, but Bethany took it as a victory all the same.

  “ _ You  _ are not thirteen stone of solid muscle-”

  “You’re right, one of my biceps alone-”

  Bethany almost stopped but continued on, the back and forth as natural as it had been when they were children. Slowly a light seemed to come on in Marian’s eyes and though Bethany could see that she was fighting it a small smile appeared on her face. 

  “Fair point. Maker you’d probably rip through the sleeves of any of the dresses you have.”

  “Well, perhaps if I resist flexing…” Marian’s voice was suffused with doubt, as if the idea was almost too ridiculous to entertain.

  Bethany then, could no longer control herself and burst into laughter, only to be quickly joined by her sister who doubled over a little in her chair, cackling at the silliness of it all.

  They laughed and laughed, their heads bent close together, until tears streamed down their faces and their skin was ruddy. 

  “Sisters-” A dark head poked around the door, only for their brother to move into the room slightly. He wore a sour, pinched expression on his face but it softened slightly as he watched his two sisters. “What’s so funny?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest, appearing less affected than he really was.

  “Oh you know,” Bethany straightened up, motioning with her hand, “Marian and her muscles.” She turned back to her grinning, “Oh, that should be your stage name- Muscled Marian.”

  “Oh yes,” she replied, “I’ve been working on running away to the circus for ages. I just had that last part…”

  Carver scoffed, but, just like Bethany, was relieved to see his sister in such good spirits. He’d felt so helpless the last few weeks, and to finally see her smiling and laughing again…

  “What nonsense are you two getting up to again?” He asked, even as he leaned against the doorway, settling in. 

  “Going to Ms. Marbleson’s party tonight,” Bethany said, wiping away the last of the tears from her eyes. “Mother isn’t able to, so we’re going in her stead.”

  Carver frowned, “And you thought to go without me?” 

  “Well…” Bethany frowned, looking between Marian and Carver quickly.  _ Technically  _ Marian was an engaged woman, and so allowed much greater freedom than Bethany was. But whether it was truly socially acceptable for the two of them to go out tonight alone was rather murky. “Perhaps… The three of us…”

  Marian groaned, overdramatic as always, “I thought you were husband hunting?”

  “What?” Carver straightened up and while Bethany shot Marian a glare stated, “Fine, I am going with you two tonight. No one is going to-”

  “We are just going tonight for Mother’s sake, of course,” Bethany quickly replied, attempting to play the mediator as she so often did. “Marian is just- Joking.”

  Carver stared at her, before finally sighing and rolling his eyes. “If you say so, but I’m still coming tonight.” 

  Bethany opened her mouth as if to say something but promptly closed it. She made eyes at Carver, an expression passing between them that Marian didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t uncommon, the two were twins after all, but she still raised an eyebrow at them.

  “I’ve things to do,” Carver finally said, straightening up, “Important things but- I will accompany you two later.” With that he turned around, exiting back down the hallway from whence he had come.

  “‘I’ve things to do,’” Marian muttered, her voice mock-low and serious. “‘Important things.’” She and Bethany looked at each other again and then broke into giggles.

   Eventually they died down and the two sisters lapsed into warm silence before Bethany spoke up again. “He really is trying-” She said, sobering a little. “Taking on the responsibilities of the title hasn’t been easy on him, you know. And we were both still so young when Father died…”

  “I know,” Marian said, sighing quietly and feeling a little guilty for mocking her brother. He could be a bit of a brat but he was still her brother and she loved him. “I suppose I should be grateful he’s accompanying us too- I know how he dislikes these things.”

  Bethany chuckled a little, "Having to fight off maidens hunting for a title isn't a lot of fun, apparently."

   "Mm, I understand. All that chittering laughter and desperate fanning. Though their mothers are always worse."

   "None of which have anything on Lady Leandra Hawke," Bethany replied. It wasn't really true but it was funny and as the two sisters lapsed into giggles again it was with a sense of relief, as if a storm cloud were finally lifting away.

  
  


  The three Hawke siblings always made a stir when they arrived together at any particular party but it was worse that night than it usually was. They had all mentally prepared themselves as gossip about Marian’s engagement was certain to have gotten around by now. And although Marian had never felt in need of protection she could not help but smile a little at the way that Bethany and Carver stuck to either side of her, glaring at anyone who stared at her judgementally. 

  “I swear,” Carver muttered under his breath as a third disapproving matron walked in front of them, making sure to give Marian a look of censure. “If I see Mr. Scavo…”

  “Relax, dear brother,” Marian said, “It’s not as if I was as pure as the driven snow before Mr. Scavo.”

  Carver choked on his drink and unable to look Marian in the eyes gasped, “ _ What? _ ”

  “I was speaking of my reputation of course,” she replied breezily, “I didn’t- Oh- You’ve been perverted. Just wait until I tell Mother…” But when she looked at her brother, who was still avoiding her eyes, it was with a grin.

  “I didn’t- You- You did that on purpose,” he accused.

  “Brother, sister,” Bethany spoke up, “I do love your conversations but perhaps we should focus on drawing  _ less  _ attention than usual?”

  “Speak for yourself,” Marian said, taking a healthy swallow of her champagne as she watched the couples dancing with each other out on the floor, so many of them happy looking. “I’m having a grand old time.” They were standing at the edges of the ballroom, sweating under the bright lights of the chandeliers, but in truth she would have rather been with the two of them.  

  “I’ll bet you are,” Carver grumbled next to her.

  “Ms. Hawke?” A voice from behind her interrupted whatever remark she had been about to make and Marian froze when she realized who it was.

  She turned around, clutching her glass, to see Sebastian Vael looking at her. He was smiling at her pleasantly enough, and her heart fell when she realized that he must not have known what had happened.

  “Your Grace,” she said, “How good to see you, please, let me introduce you to my siblings.” She gestured to Carver first, “This is my brother, the Viscount, Carver Hawke.” 

  Carver inclined his head, mumbling a polite if gravely “Pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

  “...And this is my sister, Ms. Bethany Hawke.”

  Bethany, usually the most gracious of the three siblings, stuttered a little and then quickly fell into a half curtsy. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she murmured and when Marian looked to her it was to see that her face had taken on a particularly red shade, almost like a tomato. 

  Frowning Marian looked at the glass her sister held in her hand. It was supposed to have just been lemonade but perhaps her sister had stolen a little of the champagne. Marian couldn’t think of any other reason for her to act so strangely.

  “Enchanted,” Sebastian responded as Marian continued to stare at her sister, completely missing the way the Duke looked at her. Finally Sebastian turned back to Marian and asked, “And is Mr. Scavo not close behind?”

  Distantly Marian thought she heard the sounds of someone scratching their heel against the marble floor as the three siblings fell silent, each looking more uncomfortable than the last.

  Sebastian blinked and then, wisely changing the subject, said, “Well, it is good to see some familiar faces at this engagement.”

  “Oh, have you been in London long?” Bethany asked, and Marian frowned slightly when she batted her eyelashes at the man. Bethany, though a sweet girl, had never been particularly silly and Marian didn’t understand why she was suddenly acting that way now.

  “Only for a few weeks. My family kept a home here, when I was younger and I went to boarding school in London but most of my adult life I have lived in Scotland.”

  “I’ve never been to Scotland but I’ve heard it’s lovely, especially in the springtime,” Bethany continued, fluttering her fan a little for effect and ignoring the confused look from her sister and the disgusted one from her brother.

  Before she could continue, however, they were interrupted by a woman calling to Sebastian.

  “Your Grace!” Sebastian blinked and turned around, all three of the Hawke siblings looking past him in order to see who had called him.

   Out of the crowd of richly dressed people emerged two figures, both of whom Marian would have gladly gone her entire life without seeing again.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Carver swore softly next to her. On her other side Bethany was glaring over her fan at the pair.

  “Mr. Scavo, and your cousin, Ms. Hadriana Scavo,” Sebastian greeted. His back was turned and so he missed the way that Marian went stiff, her face paling a little. 

  Hadriana smiled at Sebastian and though it did not falter it grew considerably colder when she looked at the Hawke siblings. Next to her Fenris remain rigid, a tight grimace on his face. Though he was not exactly dragging his feet it was clear that he was resisting Hadriana as much as he could without creating a scene.

  “How good to see you,” Hadriana said, clearly speaking only to Sebastian. “I know we had only met briefly but Mr. Scavo has told me so many charming stories about you.” She laughed, a sound like the tinkling of glass though Marian fancied it was more like nails on a chalkboard. “I simply had to meet you again.”

  Sebastian replied, though Marian did not hear it. Fenris had finally picked up his head a little and dared a look at her, only to quickly turn his gaze away again. Marian’s eyes drifted to where Hadriana grasped his arm and watched as she squeezed it, her nails digging into the fabric of his coat. She was blathering on about something, Marian didn’t know what, but she kept doing it to him and she watched as his face became more and more stone like.

  It occurred to her then that Fenris was miserable. Whatever the deal was that he had made with the woman that now stood beside him, it had clearly not brought him any happiness.

  That fact should have been satisfying to her but all she felt was her heart twisting, her eyes stinging. 

  “I am going to go for some air,” she said suddenly, uncaring that she had apparently interrupted Hadriana while she had been speaking. Both of her siblings started to offer to go with her but she simply waved them away. She needed to be alone, if only for a few moments. She needed to breath, and she could not do that with them bearing down on her, as well-intentioned as they might be.

  She turned away then, missing the look of stark longing that Fenris sent her way, and disappeared into the glittering crowd, heading straight for the gardens just beyond the edges of the grand ballroom.

  Fenris watched her go, unable to do anything to stop her. Next to him Hadriana continued to dig her nails into his arm and the younger Hawke siblings had slowly but surely turned back around in order to glare at him.

  The only one who seemed remotely happy to be around him was Sebastian who was doing his best to ignore the extremely uncomfortable air that had settled over the group. He continued to graciously listen to Hadriana who was dominating the conversation, all while throwing very subtle glances at Fenris and then at the Hawke twins.

  He had not known when Hadriana had demanded that they attend this soiree that Marian would be there as well. Likely he would have stayed home and continued to wallow in his shame and misery, no matter how much his cousin badgered him. 

   Fenris had not seen her since that night and the look of pain that had passed over her face had filled him with almost unbearable shame. He could still feel it now, like bile at the back of his throat, mixing with his anger and heartbreak into a potent miasma that made his chest heavy and his stomach leaden.

  He had to go after her. He did not know what he might say but he had to say  _ something  _ to her.

  “Dear Cousin,” he said, turning to Hadriana and forcing himself to keep a neutral expression on his face. “Would you care for another glass?” 

  She looked back at him, her blue eyes cold and gave him a smile that was no warmer. “Thank you, my dear, I would very much appreciate it.”

  For the first time all evening she retracted her claws from his arm and he did not waste time in escaping her. Though he felt more sorry than he could say for Sebastian he silently promised the man that he would make it up to him again, somehow.

  First, however, he had to find Marian. 

 

   Marian leaned against one of the pillars which guarded the back patio like tall, silent sentries, staring out into the severely manicured gardens. Around her people talked and laughed, men posturing with their canes and women fluttering their fans while flirting with men who were not their husbands.

  She wished that she had thought to bring more champagne with her, especially as none of the liveried servants were close by. But she had been in such a rush to get away, thinking only of needing space, a moment to think.

  “Ms. Hawke.”

  She closed her eyes and softly sighed at the voice that suddenly appeared behind her. That deep, gravelly voice that she thought she had known. She did not want to speak to him, did not want to even acknowledge his presence. 

  But she could feel her body turning around, despite her every intention. Her heart ached, and yet she could not help but look upon the man who had put it in such pain.

  Around them the rest of the world seemed to blur and fade. Voices became a distant hum, mingling with the buzzing of insects that the warm summer night had brought. The bright lights of the party inside were all too similar to the flashing of fireflies as they lazily moved through the air.

  His face was cast in shadow and yet Marian could see the way his mouth turned downward, his frown severe.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, only to hold up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “If you wish to say anything to me, anything at all, you must answer this one question.”

  Fenris watched her, his eyes, always so intense, seeming to bore into her. She felt exposed and uncomfortable but resisted the urge to shift restlessly.

  “Why?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, a chapter that was supposed to go up like a week ago.  
> Seriously, ao3 crashed on my four times while trying to upload this lol.
> 
> Anyway, there will be another (actually planned) sort of break as I will be going out of town for about a week after I finish my finals next week and I'm not sure what the internet situation will be. If I can I'll try to upload another chapter before I go but I'm not terribly optimistic.
> 
> Anyway, everyone's continued support and kind comments and kudos mean the world to me!

  He swallowed heavily, his chest tightening as Marian continued to stare at him. The single word hung heavy in the air between them, demanding an answer.

_ Why _ ?

  There were many things he could have said, many things that he wanted to say, but they all seemed to get choked up in the back of his throat. As if something were blocking him from speaking.

  He watched as Marian’s eyes hardened, and then as tears welled up in her eyes. She was angry, he could see that, and yet she reminded him more of a wounded animal than anything else.

  “You clearly want nothing else to do with me- So why follow me out here? Why torment me?”

  Her heart beat painfully in her chest as he continued to stand there, expression inscrutable.

  “Your-” she nearly choked on the word, “-fiance is inside. You should return to her.”

  Something passed over his face and though it had been too quick for her to interpret she thought it had been a look of pain.

  “I made a promise to you,” he finally said, feeling as though he had to drag the words from behind his tongue. They tasted bitter, all the more because he knew that he had broken it. “I told you that I would help you find the truth of your father. I still intend to.”

  Marian snorted, but her eyes only seemed to grow wetter. She had never hated her inability to hide her emotions any more than she did at that moment. 

  “I do not need your help. And I do not want it,” she said, voice raw. “I would  _ like  _ to never see you again.”

  “As is your right,” he said, “But I… Please.” He hung his head, moving his hands out as if in supplication, “I wish to help you. In any way I can. Please allow me to.”

  His heart beat madly in his chest and he silently asked himself what he thought he was doing. He had hurt Marian, had dishonored her and there was no way to make it right. He could not marry her, or offer her reparations. He had nothing to give her but his time and his loyalty, what little it must have meant to her.

  She stared at him for a long time until, finally, she felt her shoulders slump. He had been the first person willing and able to help her, the first one who had truly listened to her. Whatever he had done, or his reasons, she could not forget that.

  “Why did you not tell me you were engaged? You know that it was…” She forced herself to say the words, “That our engagement was false. That we were not going to see it through. Why not tell me of your cousin?”

  When he looked up at her again she was taken aback by how bleak his expression was. Like a man who was steadily approaching the gallows.

  “I have no good excuse for you,” he finally said. He seemed as though he was having trouble getting the words out and finally lapsed into silence again. 

  Marian continued to watch him before looking away. She didn’t know what to say to him, what was safe to say. Just past him she could see the inside of the ballroom, all of the glittering people dancing and enjoying themselves. Among them, she knew, were her siblings and his finace and soon they would come searching for them.

  “Is your cousin staying with you or does she have her own home?” She finally asked, voice both tense and uncertain. 

  “She lives with my… Uncle.” He replied, watching her steadily. It was difficult for him to interpret what she was feeling or thinking but finally he said, “Her coming to visit me was as unexpected as it is rare.”

  Hawke snorted, her face briefly contorting into angry hurt again before relaxing.

  “Good,” she said and then, without another word, stepped away from him and strode back towards the open doors of the ballroom and the crush of the people inside.

  
  


  “Marian,” she was perhaps a few steps inside when Bethany grasped her arm and pulled her to the side, Carver at her heels. “Maker, where did you go?”

  “Outside,” she grumbled, tugging at her arm to try and reclaim it, “I told you both, I needed some air.”

  Carver, looming over his two sisters as he was wont to do, asked, “And Mr. Scavo splitting off shortly afterwards was just a coincidence?”

  Marian frowned, and though she was able to meet his eyes at first she finally looked away, causing him to swear colorfully.

  “Language, Carver,” Bethany chided before turning back to Marian and saying, “Did that bastard do anything? I swear if he did-”

  “I can hold my own you two,” Marian said, finally disentangling her arm and then glaring at her siblings. “I  _ am  _ the elder sibling, lest you’ve forgotten.”

  The twins shared a glance before looking back at their sister.

  “Doesn’t mean we can’t still try to protect you,” Bethany said, her voice soft. “Are you… Alright?”

  “Yes, yes, I am fine.” She replied before adding, “Would be better if I didn’t have two gnats circling around me.” But even as she said the words she knew that she was being unfair. Had anyone hurt either Bethany or Carver she would have wiped the pretty marble floor of the ballroom with their faces.

  Shoulders sagging she said, “Really you two, you don’t need to worry about me. Now let’s… Make polite conversation with Mrs. Marbleson and then leave.”

  “About that,” Bethany started, hesitating when Marian raised an eyebrow at her. “I actually think we’ve something of a rescue mission.” She turned her head back and Marian followed her gaze only to see the Duke, still trapped in conversation with Ms. Scavo. His expression, though still locked in polite interest, had slowly gained the tell tale signs of strain about it and Marian suspected that the glass of champagne in his hand had become his lifeline, based on the way he was gripping it.

  “A favor returned, I suppose,” Marian said, thinking of the night, not so long ago, that the Duke had accompanied her and Mr. Scavo. Ignoring the looks of confusion from her two siblings she turned back to Bethany and said, “We’ll run by quickly- Grab both his arms and then cart him off somewhere safe.”

  All three looked at each other solemnly before Bethany and Marian broke into grins. Carver didn’t join them, but the pinched expression on his face seemed to relax a little. 

  “Let’s,” Bethany said, and then grasped Marian’s hand. This time she did not pull away.

 

  Sebastian Vael, Duke of Starkhaven, had learned to be a patient man. He had grown from a wild, rebellious youth into a man who was for the most part worthy of the title his father had passed onto him. 

  But there were times, such as these, that even he felt that he had met his match.

  “...And I swear, Lord Cheston gave me the most sideways glance after that, I am most certain-”

  He felt his attention wandering again as Ms. Scavo’s voice droned on and on. Where was Fenris to rescue him from his insufferable cousin? Or the Hawkes? Maker, he’d even take someone slamming into him or spilling champagne on him if only to help him escape from this. Perhaps one of the ladies wearing ostrich feathers in her hair would get it caught on fire and provide a distraction. It wouldn’t be the first time he had witnessed such a thing at a party.

  “Your Grace,” his head snapped back to attention and though she still wore a smile he could see the irritation in Ms. Scavo’s eyes. “It appears as though something else has caught your attention.”

  “Of course not,” he replied, the words coming out of his mouth as if he were an automaton. “I merely…”

  He was saved from having to come up with a suitable excuse by the sudden appearance of all three Hawke siblings and instead sent a word of thanks up to whomever might be listening.

  “Hawkes,” Ms. Scavo had turned in order to look back at them, “I had not thought to see you all again.”

  Marian smiled at her, though it was not a particularly friendly expression. “Your Grace,” she said, turning to Sebastian, “We are so glad we found you, Mrs. Marbleson has been looking all over for you.”

  Sebastian blinked for a moment, thinking that he had already paid his respects to the hostess before realizing that the Hawkes were rescuing him.

_ Thank the Maker and his Bride _ , he thought.

  “I must see her immediately then,” he replied, hiding his sense of relief behind wide, concerned eyes. “I would not want to upset our esteemed hostess.” His expression turned regretful as he looked back to Ms. Scavo and said, “My apologies, but, as you can see, I am needed.”

  Hadriana looked at Marian Hawke, eyes narrowed slightly before turning back to Sebastian. She smiled, though the expression did not quite reach her eyes. “I completely understand, Your Grace. Please, if you have any need of me, feel free to call upon me.”

  It was a rather bold statement and for a moment Sebastian’s look of discomfort was genuine. He quickly recovered himself, however and after inclining his head to Ms. Scavo turned to the Hawkes.

  None of them said anything to her which was a relief as it made Sebastian’s escape all the quicker. When they were finally out of earshot he turned to Marian and in a low voice said, “Thank you for that. I feared I was going to be chained to her all night.”

  Marian chuckled and replied, “Always playing the part of the hero,” earning a genuine smile from her companion.

  Slowly the group came to a stop before Marian turned around, looking at Sebastian. Her expression was worried again, uncertain, and it was a moment before she spoke.

  “Mr. Scavo and I…” She hesitated, trying to find the words. Thankfully Sebastian interrupted her.

  “I do not normally listen to gossip,” he briefly glanced back at Hadriana before muttering, “Even when it is forced upon me. But Mr. Scavo did tell me that you and he…”

  “Yes- Yes. That is the case.” Marian managed to get out. She didn’t care to say much more and, thankfully, Sebastian seemed to understand. 

  “Well,” he finally said after a moment of silence, “Shall I requisition us more drinks? Perhaps something stronger than-” He briefly made a face at the champagne in his hands, “-this?”

  “I,” Marian said, “Can think of no finer idea.”

 

  When Marian awoke the next morning it was with a pained groan. Although the clock told her it was far later in the day then when she would normally wake up she took one look at the bright light coming from the window and promptly buried herself deeper into her blankets. Her stomach lurched, uneasy, but the thought of filling it with food only made her more nauseous. 

  Sebastian had indeed found something stronger than the champagne last night and Marian had partaken in just a little too much of it. Which wasn’t a crime, exactly, though at the moment she felt as though she were being well and truly punished. 

  A knock came at her door and she moaned softly before rolling over and praying that whoever they were just went away. Apparently nothing in her life was going the way she wished it to as another knock soon came after and then she heard the sounds of her door being opened.

  “‘m sick,” she called out. “Leave me alone.”

  She heard the very distinctive sound of her sister sighing and then muttering, “This is what you get for drinking all that scotch with the pretty Scotsman.” 

  Blinking Marian struggled up, confused both by her sister’s words and her tone of- No, it could not be jealousy.

  “Bethy,” she said as she finally managed to sit up and began to wipe at her bleary eyes. “I’m sorry I had so much last night but I-”

  She watched as her sister marched to her bedside before sitting down with a flounce that was almost angry. 

  “What did you and Mr. Scavo talk about?” She asked, slating a glance at her sister.

  “I dunno,” Marian mumbled, wishing she could bury herself in her pillows again. “Bethy-”

  “Marian,” she returned before her gaze softened. “I’m worried about you.”

  This stopped Marian who just sighed, her shoulders slumping. Looking away she said, “He still wants to help me with the investigation.”

  “Into- What happened with Father?” Bethany was staring at her, aghast, and Marian couldn’t honestly blame her.

  “Yes, though only the Maker knows why.” Marian shifted uncomfortably, trying hard not to think of the expression on his face as he had asked to help her. How miserable he looked at the side of his fiance.

  “Marian…” Bethany said, “This is… A bad idea. From all corners.”

  “I know,” she replied, “I know.”

  “...But you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?” The look that Bethany gave her then was a strange mixture of fondness and grief. Slowly she leaned over to grasp her hand, squeezing it. “Just… Keep your heart close, sister.”

  “I will,” Marian promised, telling herself that she wasn’t lying to Bethany. “I will.”

  The two sisters sat together in silence for some time, both caught up in their respective thoughts, until Marian looked over to Bethany.

  “So…” She said, “What about this ‘pretty’ Scotsman?”

  Bethany’s mouth dropped open but she quickly shut it and stood up, beginning to hastily make her way to the door before Marian could interrogate her further. “Nothing! And you’d better come down for dinner tonight!” She yelled without turning her head again, instead choosing to exit out the door as quickly as possible, leaving Marian to laugh into her blankets.

   She rolled onto her back, only groaning a little as her giggles faded away. There was a part of her that was scared that she wouldn’t be able to uphold her promise to Bethany but she wasn’t sure that she had a choice. She needed help- And Mr. Scavo, she suspected, was the best person to get it from.

   Sighing she moved onto her belly again and began to search through her side table for some foolscap. 

  
  


_   Dear Mr. Scavo,  _

 

  Fenris felt his grip tighten on the letter as soon as he realized who it was from. The handwriting had become imprinted in his mind, the quick scrawl as unique as the woman who wrote with it. The letters were always slanted a particular way, hurriedly, as if Marian could barely write fast enough to keep up with her brain. Swallowing he forced himself to relax his hands and continued on to the rest of the  note. He had not seen Marian the rest of the night after she had spoken to him and had been convinced that that was the end. And while the letter might have been a written demand to him to not seek her out he could not help the spark of hope that flared in his chest.

 

_ Dear Mr. Scavo, _

 

_ If you are truly serious about helping me, and only if, then I will be to your home later tonight. If you are not, however, I would ask that you return this letter, lest we embarrass ourselves any more. _

 

_ Ms. Marian Hawke _

  Fenris re-read the letter several times and then slowly set it down on the end table in the parlour. Marian would have him again, if only as a fellow sleuth. A friend too, perhaps, but Fenris was already thankful for what he had been given.

  Though the letter did not specify it he quickly wrote a reply to her to confirm that he wanted her to come that night.

 

_   Ms. Marian Hawke, _

 

_   I await your presence tonight. _

 

_                                                                                                                  Yours, _

_                                                                                                                  Mr. Fenris Scavo _

 

  He posted it and then returned to his sitting room. Though he had plans for the day it felt as though he had suddenly forgotten them in the wake of her letter. Instead he paced the room, restless, and occasionally glanced at the clock.

  Night would not come for many hours and yet still he paced, left to wonder over the spare letter he had been given. The words had been so unlike how Marian usually spoke, curt and polite. As if they were nothing more than acquaintances.

  Which they were now, of course.

  He sighed and finally sat down, eyes drawn to the book he had abandoned on the side table. Slowly he picked it up and then set it down again, knowing that it would do little to distract him until that evening. All he could do was wait, and hope that Marian would truly come.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author remembers there is a plot, and Marian returns to Fenris' home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely kudos and comments, I promise I will be better about replying to them. I also tried to make this chapter a little longer, since I know it's been a while since I posted.  
> Some notes:
> 
> "L. So and So" is just shorthand for "Lord So and So." Nicknames and using other shorthand ways to refer to people was pretty common in letters of this time period (and probably since forever lmao.)

  Marian stood at the bottom of the stairs, clutching the bundle of papers she had brought with her tightly. It was late at night, though not much later than when she had first come here, several weeks ago.

  A part of her wondered if this was a mistake. The door which stood before her, the door to Mr. Scavo’s residence, looked innocuous enough but she felt as though danger lurked just beyond it. Danger, or perhaps just the fear of more heartache.

  After a few minutes of going back and forth in her mind she finally huffed out a breath and strode forward, moving up the few steps with determination. She refused to be scared off, not by Mr. Scavo or Ms. Scavo or  _ anyone _ . Raising her hand she knocked on the door firmly three times and then stepped back in order to wait.

  It was a cool evening despite the fact that it was nearing late spring and she shivered before wrapping her pelisse more snugly around herself. Distantly she heard the clatter of hooves, what sounded like the patter of footsteps and then-

  The door was thrown open, and she looked up into the face of Fenris Scavo. He did not look shocked by her presence, why should he have when he had sent her a letter urging her to come tonight? But though he tried his best to school his expression into something neutral Marian could tell that he was… Relieved. 

  He opened his mouth to speak and then slowly closed it, instead choosing to just stand in the doorway and watch her.

  Marian did not lower her eyes, instead straightening her shoulders and standing up a little taller.

  “Mr. Scavo,” she said, “I trust you are doing well.”

  Fenris finally forced himself to speak, “I am. And you…” His voice died away, leaving a strange, quiet tension between them before finally he found his words again. “...Look well.” 

  “You are most gracious, Mr. Scavo,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. When another moment passed without him speaking she sighed and then, as delicately as she could, suggested, “Perhaps I even look well enough to be invited inside?”

  “I- Of course, please, Ms. Hawke,” he bowed his head and then stepped to the side, ushering her inside.

  She shot him a smile and then entered his home, idly looking around. It had not changed that she could discern, not, she supposed, that she should have expected anything different. Behind her the door closed and she turned around to see that Fenris held his arm out.

  “Your coat, my lady?” He was still watching her with that intent expression, one which she met without hesitation.

  “Thank you,” she said, unbuttoning her pelisse and giving it to him. After a moment she cocked her head to the side and asked, “You do not keep any staff here?”

  Fenris appeared to flush a little before turning around with her coat in order to hang it up. “I keep a gardener, a cook and a maid. I have little need for anything else.”

  He could almost feel Hawke’s eyes shoot up behind him, “Not even a valet?” She sounded surprised, though not judgemental.

  “Sometimes,” Fenris said, “I prefer to feel like a grown man and dress myself.” 

  He turned around just in time to see Hawke snort and then let out a little laugh. “Men’s clothing must be so much simpler- Try scoffing at a maid’s help when you have a corset to get into.” 

  He raised an eyebrow, “What happens if you are in a situation where you must quickly remove your clothing?”

  “Such as?” Hawke prompted, a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “If my jacket were to catch fire at a dinner party it was be easy to remove it, and suffer little injury to my person. But a woman…” Hawke watched a both confusion and mild outrage appeared on his features. It was… Strangely adorable, the way his gruff voice railed against women’s garments.

  She didn’t want to engage, but found herself incapable of doing anything else. 

  “Well, I suppose if a young gentlewoman were to catch fire at a party she would simply have to take it in stride. At least, that’s what all of those etiquette books from my mother have advised me when in an uncomfortable social situation.”

  “Catching one’s dress on fire is an ‘uncomfortable social situation’?” 

  “Well, assuming that we are using the example of a young ingenue at her first ball- That’s certainly a social situation. And getting her dress caught on fire? Certainly uncomfortable.”

  Fenris chuckled, no longer trying to hide his amusement. 

  “And so what is this young ingenue supposed to do in this situation? According to your etiquette books at least?”

  “Well,” Marian said, appearing to think on it for a moment, “The most basic rule for any young woman to follow, if she wishes to be taken seriously- And believe me, Mr. Scavo, you do not want to be taken  _ unseriously _ ,” she said the word like it was a curse or a ghost story, her voice dramatically lowered. “Is to always act like a lady. And a lady  _ never  _ acknowledges that which is awkward in a social situation. Instead, she must work to hold a conversation that is at once charming and non-threatening. To put her audience at ease, so much so that they forget what is awkward or uncomfortable.”

  “Such as the lady being on fire,”

  “Exactly, Mr. Scavo.”

  For a moment the two just looked at each other and it was easy, so  _ easy,  _ to follow this rhythm that they had once known. To tease one another, as if nothing had changed between them. But then Fenris averted his eyes and Marian felt the smile slip from her face. 

  Her sister had been right- It was dangerous for her to return to Mr. Scavo for help, and not just because they were trying to find a murderer. Whoever they were clearly posed a risk to Marian’s physical person. The man they had sent to intimidate her had made that clear enough. But Mr. Scavo…

   She feared Mr. Scavo posed a risk to her very heart.

  With that in mind she straightened her shoulders once more and, accent clipped said, “Well, shall we go to the library? These letters will not read themselves, much as I might wish it.”

  “Please,” Mr. Scavo responded, a little taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. “I will have the maid bring tea, if that would suit you?”

  “Of course,” Marian said, waiting until Fenris began moving down one of the long hallways before following after him. His home was small, or at least would be considered small given the class he belonged to, but Marian appreciated it all the same. The hallways were dark, lit by few sconces, but also comforting in that respect. The walls were papered in strong, warm colors and the paintings hung upon them showed people who looked, at least, somewhat pleased. A stark contrast to most of the portrait galleries the nobles kept which only depicted grim-faced former generations.

  He opened the door to his library, ushering her in, only for Marian to come up short as she took in the room.

  She had an inkling that this was the largest room in the house, taking up two stories. It was not nearly as wide as her own library at home but what it lacked in space it more than made up in books and rather creative spaces to store them. The entire length of the wall was obscured with tall, sturdy looking bookcases and there was even a section where she could see glass peeking out, just above where the top shelf of the bookcase ended.

   “You…” She started, “Covered your  _ windows _ ? With more bookcases?”

  Fenris, who had been standing to the side taking in Marian’s reaction, winced internally. 

  “I… Needed more space. For books.”

  “Maker,” Marian said, “But you must have hundreds- If not more in here.” Shaking her head she looked back at him, watching as he shrugged and then folded his arms over his chest. 

  In a very mild voice he said, “I enjoy reading.”

  She did not wish to laugh, not any more than she already had, but she found she could not help herself. When she finally got control again she shook her head and murmured, “Oh Maker, you’re just like my father whenever my mother discovered he’d bought more books. All bashful and unapologetic at the same time!” Shaking her head she continued, “Only took him ten or twelve years to realize that if he bought her flowers at the same time she was not nearly as likely to get angry with him.”

  Fenris chuckled with her, until they both became quiet again. They were only interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door and a rather timid maid entering with the tea service.

  “Thank you,” Fenris said, moving quickly to take the cart from the girl and then telling her that she was done for the night. She curtsied and then, after shooting Marian a look that was both curious and just a little suspicious, escaped from the room as though she were being chased.

  “Skittish girl,” Marian commented. 

  “She is…” Fenris shrugged. “Shy, and a little quiet. Traits which I do not mind. Her name is Marjoranne.”

   Marian nodded and then turned towards one of the tables sitting in the middle of the library, appearing to shrug her curiosity off. Fenris made to follow her, sliding gracefully into the seat across from her. She dumped the package she had, her face now grimset with determination.

  For a moment they were both silent until Fenris said, “...There are more left than I would have expected.”

  Marian shot him a look and replied, “They are more tedious to slog through than you realize.”

  “Than I realize? You do remember all those hours I spent groaning at the flowery language, do you not?” He picked one up as if it were a handkerchief with an unidentifiable stain on it and grumbled, “It almost looks like they’ve reproduced, like rabbits.”

  “Believe me,” Marian deadpanned, “I was very careful to separate the boy letters from the girl letters.”

  Fenris shot her a look, “Clearly there was some sneaking around at night.”

  “You would question their reputat-” Marian nearly finished the joke only for the words to die on her tongue. Fenris stared at her, his face suddenly drawn tight with tension.

  Neither had been able to escape the rumors and gossip of their engagement being broken. But though Fenris’ honor had been called into question more than once it was undeniable that Marian’s reputation had suffered the greater blow. 

  Not that she had held a good reputation, before this. Most of the comments she had overhead were from people who felt as though she’d simply acted the way she always did. Rash, without any thought to the scandal and shame she brought to her family name. She wasn’t sure that it was any better than if she  _ had  _ held a good reputation beforehand. 

  “Marian-” Fenris started suddenly, “I am-”

  “Do not,” Marian cut him off, “I just- Need your assistance reading the letters.”

  “As you wish,” Fenris replied, knowing that it was all he could offer her now. He thought of Hadriana, of running away from her and her cruel words. He could offer Marian marriage, could escape his family.

  But then he thought of his cousin’s words, of what he had done to Marian. He agreed with Hadriana about very little but he knew that she was correct when she told him that Marian could not possibly want him. He was a bastard, in both meanings of the word, and no one wished to make a life with one of those.

  Swallowing heavily he took the letter he had picked up and slowly began to read it. Across the table Marian remained dead quiet, moving to pick up her own letter. The tea on the cart slowly stopped steaming but neither made a move to pick up one of the cups or to pour. It would break the thick, silent air of the library, and there was no telling what, or who else, would shatter with it.

  And yet, as they both remained quiet, each began to grow more absorbed in their reading. Most of it was frilly trash, the kind of nattering letters that a bored noblewoman would write to her relatives or other friends. But there were hints of intelligence here and there, a sense of humor as well, though one that was at times cruel.

  Lady Castewell, or Violet Marlowe as she had been known before being married, wrote on matters of gossip most often, gossip both amongst her family and of other members of the ton. Most of it was singularly uninteresting, the tattle dating back years and years, well before Fenris and Marian’s time.

  And then, on his third or fourth letter, Fenris came across the following passage:

 

_ Oh, Fee, I cannot tell you how she maddens me, sauntering around in her dresses, throwing the single ringlet she lets hang down back over her shoulder. Maker, how I should like to take a pair of scissors and cut it right off! But oh, I must contain myself. Perhaps I shall simply spill punch on her at the next fete we both attend. And yet, Ms. Sidwell is a menace to us all, is she not?  _

 

__ He sat up suddenly, frowning and then re-reading the passage. He had noticed that Lady Castewell complained frequently of a woman that she only referred to as “A” but this was the first time that he had any indication that it might be Anna Sidwell.

 “Ms. Hawke,” he said, “You should read this.” Marian looked up from her own letter, a little bleary-eyed, only for her expression to sharpen when she saw the look on Fenris’ face.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Anna Sidwell- They mention her here.” Marian got up from her set, moving around the table in order to stand slightly behind Fenris and read over his shoulder.

  For a moment Fenris became very still, feeling the press of Marian’s elbow against his own. Swallowing he flattened the letter out onto the table and in a gravelly voice repeated what he had just read.

  “But…” She opened her mouth and then closed it, furrowing her eyebrows. “I… Suppose it makes sense that Lady Castewell, or Violet, anyway, might not have liked Anna Sidwell. Especially if my theory, that Sidwell and Lord Castewell were involved, is true.”

  “And yet… I would not expect a young debutante to know of such things,” Fenris started, only to cut himself off. “That is- I am… Surprised she would speak of it.”

  Marian snorted, “I am a young, unmarried lady and yet here I am. Believe me, Mr. Scavo, us women are not nearly so fragile as we may appear.”

  “You have certainly shown me otherwise.”

  Clearing his throat he then began to read the next part of the passage. As he did, his deep voice carrying through the quiet room, Marian pressed more firmly against him the heat of her body seeping through the fabric of her dress and nearly scalding him. It was all he could do to focus on the words in front of him, or at least to not press back against her.

 

_ And yet, though it feels as though she had the attention of all of the young bucks around us, she dallies with married men! Men like L. Hawke who she has no business being around-” _

 

__ Fenris stopped suddenly in his recitation, staring at the page a little dumbly. 

  “That-” he said, before falling silent again. Against him he could feel that Marian had gone stiff.

  “No,” she said, cocking her head to the side, “That’s not- What it-” She huffed a breath of irritation. “There were… Rumors. Of course. But there is no possible way that my father and Anna Sidwell could have been… Involved in this manner.”

  Fenris remained silent. He had not known either her father or this Anna Sidwell. But Marian very firmly believed that her father had nothing to do with Anna Sidwell’s murder and so he said nothing. 

  “After all, he was married to my mother at the time and he would never have-” He felt her step away slightly, and his arm was suddenly much cooler than it had been before. “He never… He was friendly, courteous to other women. But he was not the type of man to dishonor my mother, in that way.”

  Fenris looked up at Marian, watching as she picked up a stray letter from the table and then put it down again. It seemed very important that she believe what she was saying and so, as gently as he could, he said, “Of course. I trust your judgement of your father far more than Lady Castewell.”

  She moved her head up again, a small, grim smile on her face, “Yes. Of course. I would know my father far better than this… Lady Castewell.”

  Fenris looked down at the letter, eyes briefly skimming the rest of it. “So much idle gossip,” he said, “And all for lack of something better to do.”

  When he looked up again it was to see a small smile on Marian’s face, her features having softened. They both looked at each other and for a moment Fenris wondered if it was possible for Marian to ever forgive him. If, perhaps, there might yet be something between them.

  “Well,” she finally said, “Perhaps we ought to get back to reading through these. I… I know it is late but-”

   “Please,” Fenris said, “I can pour the tea- I know it will likely be cold but…”

  But she nodded anyway, a small smile still on her face as she took her seat. The tea was cool, as he had predicted, and he barely touched it the rest of the night. But Marian made a show of taking a good sip before putting it down again and then not touching it.

  As they continued to parse through the letters Anna Sidwell’s name came up only a handful of more times. Mostly it concerned gossip surrounding her relationship with other gentlemen, some married and some not, and although the name of Malcolm Hawke came up several more times Fenris said nothing about it.

  There was, however, one other common thread that they could not help but notice.

  “What in the world,” Marian finally said, “Is the ‘White Club’? And if it’s as disreputable as it sounds how does Lady Castewell know of it? Or, knew, I should say.”

  “Apparently,” Fenris said, “It’s a place that was common enough for Sidwell to visit. It doesn’t sound like any gentlemen’s club I know of-” He hesitated before suggesting, “Perhaps it was a ladies salon, of some sort?”

  “Mm, possibly,” Marian said, “If so I’ve never heard of it. But most of this was going on years before I made my debut.” She raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “And you were in boarding school still, if I am assuming correctly.”

  “You are,” Fenris said. “Though if this White Club is still active, possibly…”

  Marian fiddled with the edge of one of the papers, “I might… Know someone who would know about that sort of thing. Assuming that this White Club even still exists.”

  Fenris could not help the look that came over his face, “Ms. Hawke, you continue to surprise me.”

  “Yes, surprise,” she said, “That’s a good word for it.” Chuckling a little she stood up, beginning to collect the letters together. Although Fenris had never passed judgement on her or the way she acted she still feared it something, especially when it came to things like this. Nice girls, after all, did not go on adventures like this. And nice girls did not rub elbows with the sort of people who might know what the White Club was.

  Nice girls were courted and then married, and had husbands who remained by their side. Nice girls were not abandoned, or tossed aside.

  She flinched away, internally, from that last thought. She had never been the sort of girl that society wanted her to be, and she was afraid it was too late to start acting the part now.

  Once she had gathered the remaining, unread letters together she moved to leave, mind still consumed, only to be stopped when Fenris placed a hand on her arm.

  “Ms. Hawke,” he said, ducking his head a little so that he could look in her eyes. “Please, if you do learn anything… Tell me. And do not go alone to this place.”

  Marian bit her lip, staring back at him before finally, slowly, nodding. 

  “Of course, Mr. Scavo, I will do my best to keep you informed.”

  He let go of her arm and then stepped back, a look of relief apparent on his face. “Perhaps his Grace may even join us. I did promise I would show him all I could of London.”

  Marian smiled at that. Though he was a little pious she was discovering that she rather enjoyed the company of the Duke, especially his sharp little remarks which reminded her so often of Fenris.

  “And perhaps he shall tell me more stories of your childhoods together.”

  “Perhaps I shall bribe him beforehand. I do keep a stock of Scotch-whiskey, for just such things.”

  “For bribery?”

  “Of course. And, occasionally, for drinking.”

  Despite herself she smiled, though she turned her face a little as she did so. “Well, I must be off. And no-” she started when she saw Fenris open his mouth, “You may not accompany me back to my home. I have gotten along well enough up until this point and I do not need you escorting me home.” In truth she simply wanted time alone, to think on all the revelations that the letters, and her time with Mr. Scavo, had wrought. And she would not be able to do that with him at her side.

  He frowned, “It will be a short walk. And... I will worry greatly, if I cannot see that you have made it home safely.”

  She nearly remarked that he had not bothered to see her home the last time but swallowed her words. Sighing she said, “Fine then. At least if we encounter any puddles I will have a spare jacket to walk across.”

  He nearly asked her if that was all he was to her, but stopped himself. He knew if he posed the question that she might answer honestly, and he was not certain he could take it.

  And so instead he took her arm, opening doors for her and escorting her towards her home. They were both silent, lost in their thoughts as she travelled through the dark London night. 

  When they finally made it to the front door of her home Marian turned back to Fenris, eyes searching.

   “Thank you,” she murmured. “I will… Tell you what I find.”

  He inclined his head. “Sleep well, Marian Hawke.”

  “And you as well Mr. Scavo.”

  They parted then, Marian to her bed and and Fenris to his home. It was a short walk back, made all the more brief by thoughts of Marian to distract him.

**Author's Note:**

> i can be found at laurpas.tumblr.com if you want to yell, prompt or tut disapprovingly at me


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